Copyrighted June, 1889. All rights reserved. 



DISENCHANTED. 



MELODRAMA 




IX FOUR ACTS. 



BY J. M. STEWART. 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 

1889. 



'^ 



Cojyi/ru/hted June, 1889. All rkjhts rescrced. 



DISENCHANTED. 



MELODRAMA. 



IX FOUR ACTS. 






BY J. M. STEWART. 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 



1889. 



CHARACTERS: 



James Rochester, — [assumed name,] Clerk in tiic 
employ of Giogram & Staytape, mercers, 
in the city. 

Louis Westing, — Rich and idle, — in love with Mrs. 
Rochester. 

Sir Hugh Denleigh, — of* Denleigh Manor. 

Joshua Hicks, — a Shaker, — member of a small so- 
ciety recently established near London. 

Ned Bunt, — a Yorkshire lad. 

Bowser, — a Policeman — new to the business. 

Mrs. Anna Rochester, — daughter of Sir Hugh 
Denleigh, wife of James Rochester. 

MiLLY Bloom, — Mrs. Rochester's maid; — an Amer- 
ican girl, who has a will and a way of 
her own. 

Mother Stubbs, — charwoman and rag gatherer. 

Marthon, — Queen of the Gypsies. 

Gypsies, laborers, and Shaker men and women. 



l^llie scene of th^ ^yrmcipal Incidents of the play 
i.s laid in the suhurhs of the city of London^ near the 
river Thames. 



DISENCHANTED. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — A coitaf/e l. back, ivlth icindoio and prac- 
Hcable door opening upon a porch at the side. On the 
rif/ht of cottage is a laicn, and a garden with shrith- 
hery. In the distance R. is the ricer, nith villas along 
its hanl'S. ^nd in the far hackgronnd are hills and far- 
ming scenes. Mus. Kochester is sitting on a rustic 
settee near L. 3 E. sewing. 

{Enter M11.1.Y Bi.002^1, from the cottage.) 

Mtlly. Of nil tlie overgrown boobies in this 
blessed world, Ned Bunt is tlie innocentest. 

Mrs. Eochester. What is the matter with 
Ned, Milly ? 

MiLLY. AYhy, he says we ought to have a York- 
fdiire pudding lor the out-door supjier this evening. 

jMrs. 11. A Y'orkshire pudding is very good; but 
it is not qnite proper for tea. 

]MiLLY. So I told the booby ; bnt he onl^^ stared 
at me like a great calf {imitating him) and said : 
*' Anan ! Missis.*' 

Mrs. 11. Ned seems to be very fond of yon. 

Milly. He ! He's a lout ! But give me a lout 
before a loon, for a husband, I say. 

Mrs. li. You are very severe, Milly. You say 
things sometimes that only my strong friendship 
can overlook and excuse. Be patient, dear girl ; 
help me to be brave in my trial. I hope that the. 
woild will some day approve my choice of a husband. 

Milly. {with emotion) Forgive me, darling. You 
know how well I love vou. 



Mrs. R. I know it, dear. All is forgiven. Ls 
everything- prepared tor tlie supper I 

MiLLY. All except the seed cakes from the sho]). 

Mrs. E. Then please send Ned for them directly. 
He is a faithful boy, and ver^' good. 

MiLLY. Yes ', Ned's as good's a yearling baby 
half full of paragoric. {Exit into the cottarje.) 

Mrs. R. {musinfiJy) This is the first anniversary 
evening of my wedding. Heigho ! Am I hai>i)y 'i — 
{Sighs) Ah ! am If I was my father's " motherless 
darling," as he used to call me. Contrary to his 
wishes, I married, [siohs) It was suddenly done. I 
was young — impulsive; James was handsome — sad. 
I pitied, loved, and gave him my hand. ^A^as it 
wisely done? {muses silently for a inomoit) lie has 
faults, which he tries to amend under my teaching; 
is poor, but that is only a misfortune. Yes; I have 
j)romised to '-love, honor and obey him ;" and, Go<l 
]:elping me, I will do so. {calls) Milly ! Milly ! 

MiLLY. {ente rim/ from the cott(u/c) Here 1 am, my 
precious. You needn't call Milly twice. Once is 
enough to bring her to you, wherever she may be. 

Mrs. R. You try to spoil me, dear; but you can- 
not do it. 

Milly. Some things are better for being spoiled. 

Mrs. R. From the way that you turn up your 
nose, Milly, I judge you must be thinking of Lim- 
burger cheese, {lamjhs.) 

Milly. Fangh! Miss Anna. lean think of a 
thousand better things than that, if you take it in 
that way. 

Mrs. R. Give me one example. 

Milly. A dead Indian ; gone to the happy scal- 
ping grounds. That spoils the Indian. 

Mrs. R. {laughing) Very good, Milly. I have 
no doubt that the process improves him. Now will 
you please look down the back street and see if my 
Jamie is coming 'I 

Milly. {aside) Her Jamie I Ugh! It's a shame, 



— that it is, for my clear girl to be so carried away 

with that but no matter ; — we shall see. {Exit 

L. 3 E., returning qniclii/. To Mrs. B.) He's just 
coming up to the tnrn stile. 

Mrs. K. Is he looking happy and buoyant now, 
Milly? 

MiLLY. Can't say that I discover any great 
change in liis appearance. You know that I am not 
apt to study him very closely. 

Mrs. K. Is he alone f 

Milly. Yes, dear. {Exit into the cottaffe.) 

Mrs. II. Then he shall again hear my evening- 
song of welcome, that I used to sing to him during 
our honeymoon. {Goes to L. 3 E. and sings : 




1. When tlieevening star appears, Wl»en the dew-drops fall like tears.When the 

2. Now ne tnins the list'uing ear, As his steps are drawing near; 2how he 




dai - Ij' task is done, Clos-ingwith the set- ting snn; Then my 
pans-es l>y the stile, There to wait my kiss the while: Oh! 'tis 




V=t- 



^iJ 



^ 



L| ^- 



heart, hi fond era - ploy, Flut-ters with its thrill of joy. For, from 
joy to call him mine, As our lov - ing arms en-twine ; For, from 




wea - ry la - bor free, Ja-mie's com-ing home to me. 
wea - ry la - bor free, Ja-mie's com-ing home to me. 



{Exit L. 3 E., returning quicMy with Mr. Rochester.) 



6 

Mrs. E. Home again, Jamie. 

KocHESTER. Yes, dear; home agaici ; — and such 
a home ! and such a loving wife to welcome me I 
Yon are my irevening star, Anna. 

Mrs. K. Jamie, am I as a star to you ? 

RocH. The brightest, dear. 

Mrs. J\. Then, believe me, that, constant as yon 
leautifnl orb, {pointing upward) now burning thr<»' 
the evening sky, so will 1 ever shine lor my hus 
band while he loves me. 

llocH. Anna, you are truly noble. You took mc^ 
in my poverty, when rich men were trying to win 
the ^and ot the young lily of j)enleigh Manor. I am 
poor ; but I am Ifupright. 'Ow could you stoop to 
one so lowlv'? 

Mrs. K. Ask me not, Jamie. Let your own soul 
answer the question. I chose you because 1 pitied 
\ on in your poverty and loved you. 

Koch. For my sake you left a splendid 'ome ; on 
Mccount of me your proud father threatens to disin- 
vrit you. 

Mrs. K. True it is, Jamie, that he has with 
drawn his love from me. {sighs) I am sontetimes 
very sad when I think of it. But my husband loves 
me, does he not, Jamie. 

Koch. Never doubt it, dear. I wouhl give u]> 
h'everything — even my club — for you. 

Mrs. K. {slightly confused) Is this one of your 
club nights, husband? 

Koch. Yes, Anna. 

Mrsi R. Will you stay at home to-night ? I have 
planned a little surprise for you. This day is the 
tirst anniversary of our wed<ling. Suppose that we 
celebrate it by having our tea here on the lawn, by 
the moonlight and starlight. 

Koch. By Jove ! that'll be bully, 1 mean it is 

a capital idea. ^Ow old Grogram would stare if he 
could see me ^ere so 'appy ! 

Mrs. K. {raising her hand chidingly) Y'ou prom- 



ised tliiit you would uot speak so u]ipleasantl3' about 
Mr. Gi'ogram, jour eni])loyer. 

Koch. True, true, dear. It's low, — T should not ; 
liut I can't quite conquer the h'old 'abit, you know. 
I shall be very glad to take tea with you 'ere on the 
lawn, and to stay at 'onie tonight, h'although I jn-o 
niised to meet some gentlemen at the club, on h'im 
])ortant biisiness. 

Mrs. II. AVIiat do you do at the club, Jamie? — 
You have never told me. 

Koch, {confused) () — aw — we do n thousan<l 
things that you couldn't irnnderstand. When shall 
we 'ave our tea f 

Mrs. K. Directly, [calls) Milly ! Milly! come 
here with Xed. 

[Enter Milly and XciJ from the cottage — nhe rnnninff 
(tnd leading him.) 

^ED. Here we he's, mum — axing pardings, — but 
she drawed me arter 'er. 

^IiLLY. Indeed, Miss Anna ami Mister James, he 
wouldn't let go my hand, which he was a-squeezing 
like a vise, with his great paw. 

Ned. Aw I noa, lass; taat weant t'way o'it. (7'.> 
Mrs. I^.) She wor a-i)inchin nioi arum, Missus, an' 
oi wor a troyin' to jnak' her let goo. 

Mrs. K. Never mind telling now, Ned. You and 
3Iilly may letch the table out and si)read it tor te;> 
here on the lawn. [E.iit Milly and Ned into the cot- 
tage.) [To Rochester) Shall we take a walk in the 
gaiden, Jamie, while they prepare the table ? 

Koch. Capital thought ! Anna. I will pull '.\ 
white rose lor you to wear. [Exit both, arminarm^ 
M. 3 E.) 

[Enter from the cottage Milly and Xed^ fetching a ta- 
ble which they place near L. 2 E. — Xed having a tea- 
nrn^fuU of water ^ in his hand.) 

Milly. Mind what you're about, Ned, and dou'fc 
scald yourself with the liot tea. 
Ned. Steddy, laas ! — steddy, noo ! telKee. Tegs ! 



8 

beant it Iiot ? Steddy, noo ! Dang" ! but tliee's done 
if, {liter aw. {I'ilts the tea urn and sealds his hand, — 
then dances tvith pain around the staf/e^ hloalmj and 
suclinf/ his fingers.) Ow ! wow! lire au'pootlier! lioo 
it do booriie an' bleesther ! 

MiLLY. (sooth inf/Iy) ;N"ever care, Ned ; never care. 
I'll put some arniky on it tliat'll cure it before you 
can say Tuscarora Tom with your month sliut. 

]S'Ei). Who be's Tuscaroa Tom, Milly i Ow ! ow ! 
[sucking his fingers) Who he's taat chop? 

Milly. O — he's nobody that you know. He has 
a i)ack of patent Indians — something" new in the 
wigwam Hue, — that whoop, and jell, and kick their 
wives real natural, [erit into the cottage.) 

Ned. Ecod ! oi wish it wor t'patent Eenjun taat 
Avor boornt instead o' oi. {shal'ing his hand.) JNIissis 
Milly she he's so loively an' seech a sweet lass taat 
ui can't holp a-loavin' her. She's a rare un, she he's. 

Milly. [comes out upon the porch with a sugar 
howl) Here, Ned, set this on the table. Keep your 
burnt fingers away from the sugar. [Hands the howl 
t ) him and c.jcit.) 

[As ycd places the howl upon the table, he gaza 
longingly at the sugar — tahes up a lump., but rejylaca 
it, shaking his head.) 

Ned. Na, noa ; it weant do — it weant do. It do 
looke noice an' whoite; but itworna made for t'lcMke 
*)' oi. Oi be mortal hoougry ; but oi canna tak" it, — 
it beant moine. 

Milly. [entering with a plate of cakes which fthe 
pliices on the table) Ned Bunt, you are a good, honest 
boy, — honest as a bran new deacon. Every lump of 
sugar is still in the bowl. 

Ned. An' wha' wudn't it be there, Missis Milly, 
when your ain ])ooty fingers pit it there? Tell'ee 
wot, laas, it beant liof sa whoite an' sweet as thee 
be'st. 

jVIiLLY. Well, Ned, that's very polite, I'm sure ; 
and I'm much obleeged to you. It isn't every York- 
shire lad that'd be so honest as you, not by a jailfull 



of scamps : and it isn't every one tbat could be so 
eomplinientary, — not by five cents' worth ot* dudes. 
Tliat's what's making me eenymost love you. (/ooA- 
inff at him coyly.) 

Ned. {loutishly attempting to liiiy lie r) Ola as! O 
laas ! wull'ee loave me. 

MiLLY. [indkinantly d rawing had) Be quiet, you 
sheepish lout! I ain't for sucli as you, — not by a 
dollar and forty cents, — that is (coquettishly) — not 

perhaps. Eut go and fetch chairs, and then 

call the folks to tea. 

Ned. {fetching two chairs from the cottage^ which 
he places hy the table, turns and calls loudly) Meas- 
ther an' Missus — sooper be aw reddy. 

MiLLY. Who taught you to bawl so, like a great 
bull calf, you oaf ? Come with me; I'll teacli you 
how to call i)eople to the table, {leads him across to 
L. 3 E., where liocH. and Mrs. K. are entering, court 
sies to them) Mr. and Mrs. llochester, tea is on the 
table. 

Ned. {imitating her) Measther an' Missus Eoch- 
ester, tea he's on t'tabU^ 

(Koch, and Mks. K. laughing, cross over and tale 
seats at the tahlc. Milly «;<iZ Ned remain had; she 
niocking and teasing him for a while, then hoth exit 
■into the cottage.) 

Koch. By Jove ! Anna, this is crack and jolly — 
I mean : this is very nice. Such a stunning spread, 
— and such a sweet wifey to pour tea for a poor, 

hungry chap. How old Grogram would 1 beg 

])ardon, dear. Can't 'elj) slipping back a little, when 
I'm h'excited, in spite of h'all your h'instruction. — 
But who is the man tliat seems to be 'elping Milly ? 

JMrs. K. He is a Yorksliire lad, — patient, indus- 
trious — a good gardener. I hired him several days 
ago. Milly asures me he is honest. 

Koch. Ahem ! Is Milly that is — do you think 

that she is honest? 

Mrs. K. Whj, husband, you surprise and pain 
me by intimating a doubt of her honesty. 



10 

RoCH. {confused) I didn't mean it, li'Anna; but 
servants are low people, you know, and you can't 
li'always trust them. 

Mrs. II. Milly is not a low person. She is more 
]ny friend than my servant. I never call her ser- 
vant; she would resent that as tlie deepest indi<>ni- 
ty. She became, as I have told you, deeply attached 
to me when I was traveling' in America with my fa- 
ther, last year, and, in pure love, consented to come 
with me to England, as my maid. She is not at all 
mercenary ; for, as you know, when my father turned 
me i\\Yi\y from liis door, after our marriage, in a tor 
rent of anger she upbraided him, and refused his 
offer of a large sum of money if she would leave me. 

IvOCH. Pardon me, Anna. I was h'only joking, 
you know. She shall stay with you Ifalways. By 
Jove ! this tea set is 'andsome. You never told me 
"ow you got it. 

Mks. K. It was given me by my mother, in her 
will, — this, together with a thousand jwunds. 

IlocH. With that thousand pound you bougiit 
this cottage 'onie and gave it to me. I 'ope the 
chances of business will never dei)rive us of it. 

Mks. II. Chances of business! Jamie, — how can 
they affect our little property ? 

Koch. I didn't say they could, dear; I was h'only 
joking, don't you know ? 

Mes. II. Then, Jamie, don't do it any more, 
please. Jokes of that sort give me a little uneasi- 
ness. I know my husband means only pleasantry ; 
but it pains me. 

{Enter R. 2 E. a man, who crosses over and hands a 
letter to Rochester.) 

IIOCH. {scrutinizln/f the envelope in various post 
tions) By Jove ! this is h'odd. I wonder what's in 
this. I ain't used to this sort of thing, you know, — 
Who can be writing to me, and sending the letter 
in this way ! What do you think, Anna ? Perhaps 
some one 'as written to tell me that a h'old h'uncle 



11 

^as come from b'liidia with lots of money for me. — 
Perhaps li'it's a challeiifie. {trembles and offers her 
the letter) Will you see what it is, h^Ainia 1 

Mrs. K. When people receive letters, husband, 
they open and read them. 

Koch. That's so, by Jove ! Never tlionght of 
that, [opens the envelope in agitation and tal'es out a 
card) Ha! 'ow's this? (reads) "So — sow — sowve 
nire. Presented by James Kochester, shopman, 
with Grognim & Staytape, Mercers, Strand, oj)po- 
site Tlireadneedle Lane." Ha! ha! ho! ho! This 
is a jolly go. My li'own card, which somebody 'as 
sent to me, and he's written sow venire on top of it. 
AVot's sowvenire ? (Hands the card to Mrs. B.) 

Mrs. K. (turni7ig the card j reads) "Mr. Louis Wes- 
ting ]>resents compliments, and would be happy to 
call." 

EocH. Westing ! Westing ! ' Ow now ? O — yes, 

I remember. He's a real toi)sawyer of a fellow 

I mean to say : he's a jolly tine gentleman that came 
h'into our shop the other day. While I was await 
ing on 'im, I 'appened to s])eak of you and our 'ome, 
and lie said he would like to call on you; so I gave 
'im my card and told 'im to come h'on. (I'o the man) 
Here, you — tell the gentleman to come h'in. 

(Exit man R. 2 E.) 

Mrs. E. Is it not somewhat dangerous, husband, 
to trust chance acquaintances to such an extent 1? 

EocH. That's h'all right, Anna. That's the ^vay 
with business men, you know. Besides, he's got lots 
of money. 

Mrs. E. But is he honorable, — one that would 
be a proper social friend f 

EocH. By Jove ! he's a 

(Enter Westing, l. 2 E., who crosses to the table j 
bowing.) 

EocH. (rising) My dear Mr. Westing, most 'earti- 
ly welcome. M3' wife Sir, that you said you were 
dying to see. (introducing liim.) 



12 

(Mrs. E. riseSj and she and West, hoic) 

West. My dear sir — your liand ; — yours, madam, 
Kil Tons 2)lait. {Shakes hands with both.) 

RocH. {laughing) That's good, by Jove ! only slie 
isn't silver plate; she's solid silver, clear through. 

West, {aside) Ignorant l>upi)y ! {to lioch.) Your 
joke, my dear sir, is very happy. The i)icture which 
you attempted to draw of your lovely wile and your 
beautiful home so captivated me that I could not re- 
sist the temptation to drive out here, and see if the 
reality is half so fair {hows to Mrs. li.) as you drew. 

IIOCH. What do you think about it now, my dear 
Westing 1 

West, {aside) Familiar fool ! But she is lovely — 
a true-born lady. Is she weak ? Must have been, 
to marry such an ass. I shall soon learn, [to Eoch.) 
Pardon m^- abstraction ; I was buv«;y for a moment 
with on agreeable recollection. I cannot give you 
credit IVu* liigh descriptive j^owers. Your language 
was too tame ; it lacked the vivid coloring which 
marks an appreciative soul. But, after all, who 
can, in language, rival nature, in piesenting a scene 
where everything is so fair I {with a gesture towards 
the cottage and garden) and, {bowing to Mrs. J\*.) who 
Avould dare to i)aint, when the grace of high breed 
ing and the polish of education have done their 
work so Avell. 

{Mrs. R. ecinces a little disi^Jeasure.) 

BocH. {applauding noisily with his hands) Yery 
good ; very good, my dear Westing, and you're wel 
come, {to Mrs E.) My dear, you second me, you 
know, in welcoming my friend Westing. 

Mrs. B. {to M^esting) Whatever is a true joy to 
my husband, sir, pleases me. 

JiocH. Come, Westing, join us at tea. 

West, {aside) Impertinent ass ! {to Roch.) To be 
thus honored by you, and gratified by the presence 
of your adorable wife, lifts me to the summit of hap- 
piness. 



rj -.T 



13 

TJoCH. TJiicomiiion good of 3011 to say so, West 
ing. {to Mrs. B.) My clear, don't you think we're in 
luck to secure such a tip-top h'acquaiutauce as my 
friend Westing? 

Mrs, R. {uneasily) Your real friends, James, can- 
not fail to become mine. 

West. Tlianks, heartily, my dear madam. I take 
your words to my heart. 

RocH. {calUmj loudly) Milly ! Milly ! here, you 
Milly. (MiLLY enters fr 07)1 the cottage.) Here — letcli 
a chair for my friend Westing. 

{Enter Ked l. 3 E. with a hucn chair in his hand. 
^IiJuIjY seizes it; Ned rcaistH for a moment^ and final I y 
both carry it to the table. {Exit Ned^ L. li E.) 

Mrs. K., IIoch and West, tal'c seats at the table.) 

West. Even your servants, my dear madam, ap 
pear anxious to i)rove to me that I am welcome. 

(Milly regards him angrily^ and is on the point of 
spealcing.) 

(Mrs. R. There, there, Milly dear; please close 
your lips very tightly. 

(Milly mutters " Humph ! " and both she and Ned 
retire towards the door of the cottage — she tossing her 
head angrily.) 

Mrs. R. {to West.) You will please pardon my 
maid, Mr. Westing. She is a high-spirited Ameri 
can girl, and is very resentfnl when any one calls 
her a servant. In America, Yankee girls are called 
" iielps," not " servants." 

West, {looking at Milly through his eye-glass) An 
American girl ! I never saw a genuine specimen 
before. 

(Mrs. R. pours tea for West.) 

RocH. Although it isn't strictly according to the 
rules of etti — ettiketty, as my wife says, to drink 
wine with tea, yet, h'on this occasion, so J0II3-, by 
Jove f let's drop ceremony, and drink to long h'ac- 



14 

quaintance aud frieiidsliip. 

(Mrs. R. manifests uneasiness.) 

West, (aside) Insufferable snob! — and lie the 
husband — the master of this lovely woman ! (to B.) 
Nothing more proper, I assure you, sir, than the set- 
ting aside all formal rules in such a presence as this. 
(hoicino to Mrs. R.) 

RocH. Then, by Jove ! we'll do it. (to MiUij^ loud- 
ly) Fetch that bottle of wine from the top shelf of 
the pantry, and some glasses, — and see that you 
don't break any of them. 

(MiLLY starts forward, slioicing resentment, hut 
pauses, turns, and goes into the cottage.) 

Mrs. R. (rising iineasilg) Had I not better, hus- 
band 

RoCH. Ko, no, Anna ; sit down. She'll do it h'all 
right. J)on't be afraid. 

(MiLLY hands out to Ned an uncorled bottle and a 
tray of glasses. Ned approaches the table awkward- 
ly, spilling some of the wine on the ground.) 

RocH. AVhat are you doing, you fool ? You're 

wasting wine tliat cost me two shillings per yard 

1 mean : ])er bottle. 

Mrs. R. (distressed) Pardon him, my husband. 
He is unaccustomed to such service. 

West, (to Boch) I, too, crave your pardon for the 
luckless Ganymede of this symposium ; who only in- 
tended to pour a libation to Jupiter. 

RocH. (laughiug coarsely — to Ned) No ^irm done, 
Grann3' Mead ; you can go. 

(Exit Ned, l. 2 e.) 

RocH. (to Mrs. E.) My dear, you must tell me 
h'all about Granny Mead and Jew Peter sometime. 
(to M^est.) You don't know what a power of learning 
she 'as sir. Why, before we were married I 

Mrs. R. Your guest is waiting for his wine, hus- 
band. 



15 

RoOH. That's so, Anna. I was forgetting'. {To 
West.^ pouring wine into his glass) Look at tlie spar- 
kle, my dear Yellow. That wine is nobody knows 

'ow old. Shall we drink a toast 1 

Mks. 11. I think you had better omit the toast, 
husband. 

EoCH. That's what tliey do at h'all the bid din- 
ners that I've read about. 

West. I agree with Mrs. Eochester. This is u 
social occasion. 

Koch. Bat we'll do a part of h'it, as we do at 
the club sometimes ; so — {elevating his glass) 

'Pore's to 3 ours, — 'eres to mine, — 
And down goes the wine. 

{(h'lnJcs) Ha! ha! {hlc) That's— that's the way to 
make h'acquaintances. Anna, {hie) won't vou take 
:i little? 

(Mrs. R. shaJces her head u-ithout replying. West. 
drinks sparingly — KoCH. more eopiously.) 

{Enter Marthon, the Gypsy Queen, K. 3 E., pausing 
and pointing her fingers scornfully towards Boch. and 

We^t.) 

Marthon. {aside) Ha-ha ! ha-ha ! the fly and the 
spider! — the fool and the fooler! The spider is 
tempting the fly ! he is shrewd, cunning and treach- 
erous. Westing, spider! I am th^^ track, and I will 
some day crush thee for the wrong done to me and 
mine. Natton, pride of our tribe ere his polluting 
liand was laid ui>on you, you shall be avenged; but 
tlie time is not yet, — not yet, — not yet ! {advances to 
the table.) My ju'etty lady, and you, gallant gentle- 
men, cross with silver the i)alm of the old wise wo- 
man, and she will promise you favors and fortunes. 

West. I do not doubt it, old woman. You have 
a fortune already manufactured for every fool in the 
kingdom. 

Koch, {intoxicated) Ha! ha! ha! {hie) True for 
you, my {hie) boy. She's got a gold box h'under 'er 
tongue. 



16 

West. Yes ! aud a silver key unlociks it. 

Koch, [hie] By Jove! prime! Piiiich couklii't 
beat that, {hie) 

(Mks. K. Please go awaj, good woman ; we do 
not want to have our tbrtniies told. 

JloCH. But we do, my {hie) dnxy; we want 'er 
to tell h'us li'all 'bout the {hie) gold that's comin' 
h'over sea for Irus. {To We.it.) Wot d'you {hie) say, 
my boy? 

West. I agree entirely with your wiser wife, and 
beg that the woman be dismissed. She is annoying 
^Irs. Ivochester. 

Kocii. {drinks) Wot ! {hie) and lose the great for- 
tun' that'll {hie) i)ay h'all my debts 'i 

JMrs. II. {sobbing) Have you not fortune enough 
now, husband ? 

BocH. {maudlin) There, {hie) there, there, my 
dnxy. Don't cry — done(/j/c')cry for spdt milk. H'l 
say — don't ciy ; h'it makes me feel {hie) h'awful ! — 
I to Marfhon) G'way h'ohl wise woman — {hie) g'way, 
li'old gold tongue, — h'old queen o' {hie) dimuns. — 
You're makin' my {hie) dnxy cry. 

jNIrs. B. {risinfi from the table, eri/inf/) You will 
])ermit me to withdraw, gentlemen ; I am taken sud 
deidy ill. {To Marthon) Good mother, you must 
leave the grounds now. {Gires her mone>j) 

Natton. {seizinfi ^[rs. Foehe.ster by the shoulder, 
and pointinff towards Westing) Ha! the spider ! He 
will catch the tly. The fool will be fooled. {Exit 
n. 3 E.) 

{EMt Mes. B. into the eottage. As she retires, 
West, arises, and bows profoundly to her. BocH. 
keeps his seat and noisily applauds.) 

West, {resuming his seat) My dear sir, do not let 
this little episode interrupt our conviviality. Mrs. 
Bochester, I trust, will soon be better and rejoin us. 

BoCH. Yes, my boy, {drinks) we'll be {hie) con- 
wivial — con(/</c)wivial. That's the word we use at 
the club wen {hie) h'old friends meet — h'old friends 



17 

meet to(/m;)j;'etl»er. But I dunno wot's the matter 
Avitli [hie) h'Anna. She^s been blue, like, li'all tlie 
h'evening, — {hie) talked 'bout stars and li'all that. 

West. Sbe is a star, indeed, — like a ^eni finely 
cut but badly set. I trust her illness will not de- 
2)rive us of the pleasure of her company during the 
remainder of the everjing. 

Koch. H'o! she'll {hie) be h'all right and {hie) 
round agin in a minute. She's {hie) that fond of — 
[hie) fond of me, that she cant be 'appy with(//i6') 
li'out me. 

West, {aside) Strange freak of fortune ! Here 
is a weak, addle-headed, but passably good looking 
donkey, the husband of one of the fairest daughters 
of the land, — a true born lady — for so her bearing 
denotes. It were a crime not to break her chain. — 
{to Roeh.) You are very fortunate in having such a 
wife, and such a delightfid home to come to, when 
you escape from the tyranny of employers and tlie 
degradation of the yardstick. 

Koch. Hang h'old {hie) Grogram ! H'l wish 
somebody 'd [hie) punch 'is 'ead. 

West. You are such a spirited and jovial fellow, 
that I propose a game of cards, to determine whetij- 
er you or I shall go to the shop to-morrow, and pull 
Grogram's nose, — the forfeit to be ten pounds. 

Koch. Ha-ha-ha! {hie) ho-ho-ho! {hie) we'll do 
h'it, my boj'. Pull h'ohl Grogram's {hie) nose ! Ha 
lia-ha ! ho ho- (///c) ho ! Le'ss go h'into the 'ouse and 
{hie) play, and keep h'Anna comp'u}'. 

{Both arise from the table and go towards the door 
of the cottage, Koch, staggering.) 

{Enter Mrs. R., iw tears, meeting them.) 

{Enter Marthon, imperceivedj R. 1 E., who mena- 
ces Westing in dumb shoic.) 

Mrs. R. O James ! O James ! falling away so 
soon, when I thought that I had almost saved you. 
Let me — oh ! let me persuade you to retire, {to West.) 
])o not, I pray you sir, lead my husband astray ! He 



>»V::n} 



18 

is easily influenced ; — oli! let nie save liini. 

Koch. It's h'all right, {hie) li'all ligiit, li'Anna, 
]n3* (luxy ; 'ee's got lots oH {hie) money, and h'l'll 
Avin it and pay h'np wot we b'owe on the 'onse. 

Mrs. K. Owe on the house ! My husband, what 
do you mean i 

lloCH. [hie) Cliances — business, you know, {hie) 
<luxy ; chances, o' jokin'; h'l was ITonly jokin'. 

AIrs. li. {in great miitation) IJut what do you 
mean by those awful words — "owe on the house?" 

liocH. {imrtiaUy sobered) Did I say that, {hie) 
Anna? It's h'all a mistake, you know, {to ]ye8tin(/) 
Come li'on, ole boy, {hie) We'll 'ave game — cards 
and keep h'Anna {hie) comp'ny. {tStagyers into the 
house.) 

Mrs. E. Oh ! Mr. Westing, do not come between 
my husband and happiness, I beg, I implore you ! — 
He is easily led away ; an<l I try so hard — so hard 
to be happy with him ! 

West. Happy ! — lovely woman ; can you — born 
lor a fairer fate, — be happy with him f 

Mrs. E. {sif/himf heavily) It is my duty to love 
and honor my husband. 

W^EST. Love ! honor ! honor a clod like that ! O, 
lady ! for such jou are, — love, a child of heaven, 
should not be debased on Earth. 

Mrs. K. Debased I sir ; why do you say those 
words to me ? 

W^EST. Yes, debased. Do you not see the vast 
gulf between you and him, — a gulf which neither 
you nor he can pass? I would save you, — even from 
yourself, — disenchant you. {takes her hand) Do not, 
O, lady ! do not waste so precious an emotion upon 
a creature such as he who calls you " wife." Wife ! 
The dove does not mate with the jackdaw. 

{^he flings his hand from her, and goes into the eot- 
tage. llocH. eomes to the door — she eUn<)ing beseeeh- 
imjly to him.) 

RocH. {rudely repulsing her) Mrs. {hie) Roches- 
ter, g'way. H'i'm master 'ere. {to West.) Come h'in, 



10 

h'oldchap; li'I'in master 'ere. We'll 'ave— game — 
{hie) cards, you know, aud keep li'Aiiiia comp'iiy. 

{Fxit ROCH. and Mrs. R. 

AVest. a clod ! an imbecile! a brute like that to 
stand between lier and her true ha])piness ! Perish 
the thought ! Slie is adorable ! adorable ! and she 
shall be mine ; I swear it, by Eros ! ^ot to win her 
from such an idiot, were worse than foil}-. Who was 
she? {mufiing) Her features are not uidvnown to 
jue. 1 have surely seen her before. But, whoever 
;-he was, she is now living in a false i>osition. She 
is half disenchanted now ; she shall be wholly so. 
Her pure soul, looking out frojn her starry eyes, al- 
most wins me to virtue. 1 will be her chamj)ion. I 
am already her lover. She shall be saved. I swear 
it ! {Exit into the cottage.) 

( Da rli ness l n creases. ) 

{During this scene^ Marthon maintains her mena- 
cing attitude^ until Westing^s exit. Then she partialU! 
turns and males a gesture of command to some one un 
.<ecn. Enter ^ near her., a Gypsy man. i^he points him 
towards the table — maling a gesture of stabbing. The 
man stealthily approaches the table^ steals a InifCj and 
returnSj handing the Inife to her. Exeunt R.3 E.) 

{Enter, L. 1 E. Milly and Ned. 

MiLLY. Such goings on ! such goings on ! It's 
awful ! that's what it is. 

Ned. It do be orful, Missis Milly, shor eneaf. 'K 
beaut t'roight sort o' mon for t'measther to ha' roond 
him. 

Milly. Your measther is a dude; — hasn't brains 
enough to be a puppy. And that Westing is a base, 
deceiving hyppycryte. It ain't everybody that's as 
bad as he, — not by a dozen Canadian missionaries. 
He's a Philistvne. 

Ned. Who be Philly Stoyne, Missis Milly ? 

Milly. A Philistyne, Ned, is a roaring, raging 
bad fellow, 

Ned. Ding ! but oi never heerd o' she before. 



20 

What (lid taat Pliilly Stoyne do taat wor so bad ! 

MiLLY. I don't know, Nod. Nobody seems to 
liave thought much about that. But he was a bad 
fellow, all the same. I wish Sampson was here to 
kill this one. 

Ned. Who he's Sampson ? 

MiLLY. Sami)son was a Jew that had long hair. 

Ned. Ecod! Missis Milly, oi know taat chap. — 
Ee do sell old breeches in Fleet Street. Oi bought 
this breeches o' he. 

Milly. No, he isn't. Sampson lived in scriptur' 
times ; and he killed three thousand Philistynes 
with the jawbone of a jackass. 

Ned. Sakes aloive ! Missis Milly, — wot a lot o * 
weemen 'e did kill, an' aw nom'd Philly Stoynes. 

Milly. They wasn't women, — at least not all of 
them. You read your bible, Ned, and then you'll 
know all about it. But Miss Anna told us to clear 
away this table, and that's what we've got to do. 

Ned. [as he and Milly are removlnr/ the tables turn- 
huf) Sakes aloive ! Measther Sampson, taat deedn't 
sold me these breeches, killed three thousand jock- 
asses wi' Philly Stoynes jawboan. Deed'st ever 
liear t'loike o' tliot noo ? {Exit both, carrying tabU 
into the cottage.) 

{Enter llocH. and West.) 

Koch. 'Nuther game, ole {hie) fellow. Le'ss 'ave 
'nuther game h'and 'nuther bot — {hie) bottle. 

West. Not to night. Return to your adorable 
Avife, and be a joy and comfort to her. (Mrs. B. 
comes to the door, weeping) Bid her remember me al- 
waj's, as one to whom she can fly for refuge, should 
Jiiisfortuue overtake her. Au revoir. )Exit L. I E.) 

RocH. 0(/i?'c)revaw — Orevaw(/r*c) woth'ever that 
means. {Stumbles into the cottage, folio iced Mrs. R. 
The cottage door is then shut.) 

{Wight advances. The Moon rises.) 

{Enter Marthon, r. 2 e. folloiced by Gypsy men 
and icomen.) 



21 

Marthon. {pointing toicards the hacJif/round R.) 
Fix our camp lor tlie night yonder. Tlie wan(leriu,i»- 
children of lloniany need no shelter save the dome 
of heaven and the tree-toi)s. {Most of the GypHie.^ 
{JO to BACK n., light a fire and sit around it) You, 
Sleuth, go and prowl over the grounds of the rich, 
and gather food. {Exit Sleuth, ii. 1 E.) You, Mala- 
dic — noted you him upon whom my anger has fallen 1 
{Maladie bows.) Then follow him like his shadow. — 
Watch him wherever he goes. Let not his slightest 
uiovement escape your gaze. Mark the threshold 
that he crosses, and then return to me. {Ilrit Mala- 
die, L. 1 E.) The others, who work by daylight may 
sleep now. {Gypsies lie down around the fire.) For 
me there is no sleep, day nor night, while I have a 
mission of vengeance to perform ; yet nature de- 
mands some relaxation of this muscular tension. I 
will recline upon this bank of earth. {Sits, resting 
her head upon the banlc.) 

{Lights down. Enter Ned. l. 2 E., with a meat-hone 
in one hand and apiece of bread in the other, from 
which he takes bitjs alternately.) 

Ned. Dang moi boanes! oi'm hoongry eneaf to 
gnaw t'jawboane of Sampson's jackass. {Lies down 
uneasily upon the rustic settee.) Oi've got a domd hard 
bed here; but oi maun stay near Milly, t'laas taat 
oi loave. She be's sweet as hooney and i)loomp as a 
])eeg. {nods and mutters) Philly Stoynes jawboau an' 
three thousand jackasses, {sleeps and snores.) 

{Enter Maladic, l. 1 E., — sees Ned, — steals his 
food, then crosses ocer to Marthon, to whom he makes 
earnest and cautious gestures, pointing towards l. 1 E. 
Marthon retires into r. 2 e. Maladic joins the 
Gypsies around the fire, R. back) 

{Noises and shovts are heard in the distance back. 
]\Iarthon suddenly appears among the sleeping Gyp- 
sies, arouses them, and, pointing back, says : Go ! — 
You know your duties ; see that ye do your work. — 
The Gypsies extinguish their fire and disappear. Mar- 



22 

THON returns stealthily to R. 2 E.) 

[Xoises increase, gromng nearer and more dis- 
tinct. Cries of " Fire ! fire !" are heard; an illumin- 
ation is seen back, and a bell is rung.) 

{Enter Rocn.,/row cottage, partly dressed, followed 
by Mrs. K. who tries to restrain him.) 

[Enter West., l. 1 E., who pauses, watching Mr. 
and Mrs. B.) 

Mrs. li. You shall not go ! Ob, James! liow can 
you leave me to-night, and you in this I'rightt'ul con- 
dition ! 

Koch. Mrs. Rochester : your 'usband 'as a duty 
to per(/«*c)form. As a h'onorary member of the h'ln- 
depend(/</c)pendent Double Squirt h'Engine Comp- 
any, h'l must go where duty calls me. H'ingland 
h'expex h'every man to do 'is duty. H'l command 
you to go back to the 'ouse. (Breaks away from her, 
and runs staggering out R. 3 E. 

Mrs. K. Oh ! my God ! he has left me ! Gone ! 
gone, in his drunken madness, and 1 fear some evil 
will befall him. {springs forward towards R. '^B.,and 
falls npon her hnees) James! James! husband, come 
back. Do not tempt the dangers of the streets to- 
night! Oh ! Heaven ! his brain is awhirl, and he 
runs and staggers along with the mad crowd, hear- 
ing me not. 1 fear, oh ! I fear tliat my hai)piness 
and peace are gone forever. Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! {Falls 
backward.) 

{As Mrs. B. falls. West., who has come up behind 
her, kneels, catches her in his arms, supports her head 
upon his breast and kisses her.) 

Mrs. R. {faintly) O, Jamie! Jamie! Jiow good 

you were to come back to me. I 1 {laughing 

hysterically) I was near fainting, Jamie. You fright- 
ened me terribly. Let us go back to the house. — 
Help me to rise, Jamie; I 1 am very weak. 

West, {arising idth her) Beautiful Anna ! it is I 
who have come back to jou. 



23 

Mrs. R. {opening Iter eyes and reeofpiizhig him) — 
You here again ! Wretch ! {struftgles) Monster ! let 
me go! You have seen my Inisband maddened by 
Mine, and now you dare to intrude upon my priva- 
cy. Wretcli ! Let me go ! She screams^ hreal'.-t 
aicay from him^ rushes to c. FRONT, and raises her 
arms towards the sly, exclaiming: " Oh ! my God I 
])rotect me, — protect me ! " {covers her face iclth her 
hands and sohs.) 

(Ned aivalcs and starts up, rubbing his eyes. — 
West, advances towards Mrs. R., and is knocked 
down by Ned. Martiion springs forward nith knife 
upraised to stab We:^ti)tg, when Xed grasps her arm. 
Enter jMilly, from cottage, with a broom. Enter 
liowsER, the policeman, r. 3 E., exclaiming: '' II 'in 
the name of 'er Majesty, li'I arrest you li'all." Mil 
ly confronts him with broom upraised, and he starts 
back in terror, dropping his club. 

End or the First Act. 



ACT II. 

Scene 1. — Same as in Act 1. Daylight. Ned is 
in the garden R. back., icorking with a hoe. 

Ned. {leaning on his hoe handle) T'dom'd weeds 
wuli groo gin they ony ha' hof a clionce. Gin folk 
wor yeatin' weeds, then t'corn wud koom oop an' 
choake out t'weeds. Onything to mak' aw quair an' 
contrair. Parson sez : man maun live by t'sweat o' 
his broo ; an' oi theenlc taat's whoy 'e has t'foight 
weeds in t'gairden an' rats in t'pooltry 3'ord. Ding ! 
beant this ti quair woorld f 

{Enter Mrs. R. from the cottage. She takes a seat 
on the rustic settee.) 

Mrs. R. The quiet of my beautiful home has 
been broken, and I seem to have entered upon a new 



24 

phase of existence. Last night's scene with my hus- 
band was the worst tliat I liave ever witnessed. He 
lias fallen away several times of late, but never be- 
fore so badly. Today he must meet witli his mili- 
tary company, and I fear that last night's dissipa- 
tion has unfitted him for such duty. Yet he must 
go, or lose caste with his brother soldiers. I would 
have him adopt the profession of arms; for that 
might i)ave the way for his recognition by my father. 

{Enter llocH. in soldier costume, aivlicardly carrij- 
ing a musJiet.) 

Koch. — Don't you think that this uniform fits me 
very well, Anna! {surccyimi his legs and arms) That 
cloth cost me fourteen shillings per yard. Ain't you 
proud to 'ave a soldier for your 'usband ? 

Mrs. 11. To be a gallant soldier, James, shouhl 
lire any man's ambition. The arduous duties of the 
field should teach him to bear bravely the stiuggies 
of life, and to be prompt and alert at every call to 
duty. 

]iocH. Duty, dear. Yon sliould see 'ow well I've 
learned that in the ranks. There h'isn't a man that 
carries 'is musket braver than I, nor one that can 
manceuver with it better. See here : — first we carry 

arms — so; then we support arms — so; then we 

then we — let's see,— then we — O, we carry arms — 
so ; then we present arms — so ; {accidentally dischar- 
ges his musliet; drops it in consternation, starting 
bade and eyeing it suspiciously. A small branch from 
a tree falls upon his head, ichich terrifies him. Lool- 
ing up, and trembling, he exclaims: O, hid ! 1 wonder 
h'if she's killed any larks! Who'd a thought she 
was loaded! {Picks up the muslet, holding it at arm s^ 
length.) Well; that charge is h'out of 'er, and she 
won't bang* aw^ay again, 1 'ope. 

Mrs. K. You should be very careful, James, not 
only of your own gun, but of those of your comrades 
in the ranks. 

RocH. Who's h'afraid, h'Auna! iS'oth'L But 



25 

sometimes iri'm a little skeery, wlien the boys point 
their muskets h'at me h'aiid call me Corporal Yard- 
stick. Bat I must be h'ott*, now. Never fear but 
h'I'll come back safe and sound. {pompoiisJi/) Ke- 
member, Mrs. Kochester, that you li'are a soldier's 
Avife. {E.vit r. 2 e.) 

{Exit Mks. 11. Into the cottage.) 

{Enter Milly, iHth a broom in her hand. 

]\riLLY. Master James came home last night 

Master ! how I hate that word ! All helps here say 
" Master," — the mean-spirited thin^is, — and I sup- 
pose I ought to, to please my dear Miss Anna ; but 
I won't, — I'll die first. Millicent Bloom aint anybo- 
tly's slave, nor she won't be, — not by a cargo of con- 
trabands ; and if James Rochester doesn't like it, 
he can hump himself about it. But what was I 
going to say i O, — Mr. James came home last night 
wet as a drownded kitten, and limj) as a ten-years 
old dishcloth, and looking as mean as a skunk in a 
])arlor. Served him right — that it did, for getting 
drunk and abusing my dear Miss Anna, and almost 
i)re edging her heart by going oft* with that pack of 
loaring, raging rascals that always run to tires. But 
the wetting sobered him ; and now he's gone to be 
a soldier, aiul strut around, — get ordered here and 
there and everywhere else, and to manjh so {Im- 
itating a, soldier marchinf/, and performing the manual 
of arms a-ith her broom.) 

1^2'he march should be commenced at four paoea 
J^.from c. and at FRONT. Jt should extend from L. 
to li. four 2)aces beyond c, then back to four paces r. 
from C; then back eight pacces^ wheeling on eighth; 
then across to R. eight paces., u heeling as before; then 
to FRONT in same order; then to c. as directed. 

When an encore is expected., Mil,i^y should talxecara 
to more from c. to L..^ four paces, during the applause j 
for another commencement. The music and movement 
should be quick and spirited. 




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26 

MiLLY. That's about the way of it, T believe. I 
am sine that he's afraid of his gun, for all his strut- 
ting' around with it in his regimentals. He a soldier ! 
{laughH scornfully) Lud ! I wish he c'd hear a real 
secesh yell. He'd drop his gun and run for the sho]i, 
like a scared dog to his master's cart. I can't see 
why my darling Anna came to take uj) with him. — 
But {siffh.s) 1 dare say love alway** goes where it is 
sent. {Turns and calls:) Ned, — come here. (Ned 
comes to her s-de from the fjarden.) Do you know 
who I am in love with, Neil. 

Ned. Ecod ! Missis Milly, soomtoimes oi theenk, 
an' theenk, — an' then oi don't theenk ; an' then oi 
theenk agean ; an' then oi dnnno whaat to theenk ; 
an' then oi goes a-tiieeidvin' an' theenkin' ance more, 
an' oi gets mixed loike, an' then I gie it ooj). 

Milly. Well, Ned, 1 know what I know ; and if 
somebodv ^hat I know'll do what 1 want him to do, 
I'll see— .'11 s,'e what I'll tell hi i. 

Ned. 'leli'ee whaaf, Missis Milly, gin it be sum- 
mut to do, oi'U d ) it, danged if oi doant. 

Milly. eoarhujli/) Ned Bunt, you're as ju'oper a 
1 id as any girl'd wish to have for a beau; and if 
anybody says you aint handsome, he aint no great 
Judge of Indians. 

Ned. Wa:it be's a Eenjun, Missis Milly ? 

Milly. O, — he's a wild, harum-scarum fellow 
with the whooping cough, that shaves ])eople's heads 
with a tomahawk, and paints himself black-and-tan, 
and wears feathers and leather breeches, and eats 
buffaloes and grasshoppers, and washes his face with 
bear's grease. But never you mind about the In- 
<lian. He'd do what I want, because he's got spunk ; 
but I'm afraid that you won't. 

Ned. Waat be it, noo, laas ? Open j our pooty 
lips an' tell your true loaver, an' oi'll gae throo fire 
for 'ee. Dash moi vitals gin oi doant. 

Milly. Ned, mark what I'm saying: if that 
Westing comes around here again, making moon- 
faces to your mistress, I want you to break every 



27 

l)one in bis bodj, and chew him np into basli, and 
spit liini out around the back yard. 

Ned. 'Cod, Missis Milly, taat be a job ; but oi'll 
troi, — oi'll troi. Gie me yan o' your sweet kisses, 
an' oi'll troi. 

MiLLY. Not now, Ned ; somebody '11 see us. You 
are a good, honest lad, — almost as good as the 
sweetheart that I had in America. 

Ned. J)idst ha' a sweethonrt in Meriky, laas ? 

Milly. Yes ; and he knew how to court, too. 

Ned. Tell me hoo they coort in Meriky. 

Milly. Well, then, listen, Ned. 

(Milly here sings the song entitled: " My' Beau 

AND 1." 

[Enter Joshua Hicks, r. 2 e. 

Joshua, {to Milly) I heard the notes of singing — 
yei, the voice of melody. H'ln ! It was like unto 
the song of the sweet songstress of Israel, when she 
did rejoice and sing, — yea, when she did exalt her 
voice to the twanging of the harp and the sound of 
the timbrel. H'ni ! I pray thee, friend, renew the 
strain which did fall so sweetly on mj' ears, — yea, 
like unto the gurgling of waters around a sunny 
Jieadland. 

(Milly dances around him and sings): 

He kissed me as I popped the corn, 
. And then he popped the question. 

Joshua. Thy melody, maiden, is sweet, — yea, it 
luith a tripping measure ; but the sentiment of thy 
song sinketh not so comfortably into my soul. It 
liath a cast of earthly vanity, like unto that of the 
merry but profane varlets who do besmear their fa- 
ces, yea, with the abomination of burnt cork, and 
make sport for the unrighteous who do frequent the 
lialls of mirth. H'm ! But thee is a happy lass and 
comely. I would have further speech with thee, if 
the youth who attendeth thee will retire. 



28 

MiLLY. {to Xecl) Friend, will tlice withdraw for 
a brief season ! 

{Ned goes to lu. 1 F^., lyartiaJly disappears^ and re- 
maim there listening.) 

Joshua. What is thy name, friend ? 

MiLLY. Millicent Bloom, friend. 

JosAUA. And tiie lad — is he thy brother! 

MiLLY. Nay ; Friend Edward is not of my kin- 
dred. 

Joshua. Does thee desire enlightenment in the 
faith, Friend Millicent ! 

MiLLY. JVly sonl is yet as an nnplowed field, 
friend. 

Joshua. Then will T, — yea, even I, Joshua Hicks, 
proceed to expound it unto thee. 

MiLLY. Procee<l to expound. Friend Joshua. 

Joshua. By thy looks and demeanor, Fiiend 
Millicent, I judge thee to be one of the unmarried 
daughters of this land. 

MiLLY. {sharplg) Well, you're mistaken, Mister 
Clicks. 1 ain't. I'm an unmarried American girl, — 
born and raised among the Berkshire hills of old 
^lassachusetts, where the farmers get up before sun- 
rise to kill squash bugs ; and they hoe their corn 
with horses, and have sunshine enough to make hay, 
which folks don't pretty muchly have in this foggy 
country. 

Joshua. Thv father was a man that tilled the 
land, so that it yielded food in abundance for those 
of his household, and for his yearlings and fatlings. 

MiLLY. Yes, sir ; most people do that for a liv- 
ing, up in old Berkshire. 

Joshua. And he had herds that roamed through 
the meadows, yea, and Hocks upon a thousand hills. 

MiLLY. Well, no; not exactly. Berkshire is 
])retty hilly — that's a fact; but my lather didn't own 
<iuite a thousand hills; he let his neighbors own a 
few, — which sort of thing the landlords in this coun- 
trv don't seem to take to. 



29 

Joshua. Kay, maiden ; I did but speak after the 
style of the scriptures. 

MiLLY. They read their Bibles, too, where I was 
raised. 

Joshua. Doubtless, Friend Millicent, tliere are 
<»'odly persons still remaining in the land of thy fa- 
thers. I deny it not, although the emigration of so 
nmny of the saints of tiiy land unto tlieir Canaan, — 
yea, unto the realm called Canada, must ^eriousIy 
affect the fortunes of those wlio remain at home. I 
am told that they who do so emigrate thither, do 
l)atteru after theexaniple of the ancient Israelites, 
who, when tl>ey tied from the tields of toil in Egyi)t, 
— yea, unto their Canaan, did si)oil the Egyptians : 
did borrow from them their gold and silver, their 
l)recious stones and other vain things. H'm ! 

MiLLY. Yes, sir; they help themselves pretty 
liberally. 

Joshua. And doubtless the rulers of thy land, 
with chariots and horsemen, do pnrsue them, desi- 
ring their return. 

;Milly. Yes, sir; they hanker after them a good 
deal ; but the saints get over to their land of Ca- 
naan all the same. 

Joshua. Friend Millicent, this is what I would 
say to thy private ear; 

MiLLY. {anf/rilif) I ain't a privateer ! I'm a true- 
born Yankee girl; and I don't send out Alabama.«, 
and — and pirates and blockade runners: and — and 
you shan't call me names, — that you shan't, {stamps 
her foot in anr/er) 

Joshua. Verily, Friend Millicent, thee dost mis- 
take my language and my intent. I said not that 
thee is a privateer — a vessel of war ; I did but de- 
sire to speak to thee confidentially. 

MiLLY. Then why don't you speak out, and not 
gee and haw around so much ! 

Joshua. I will, maiden ; peradventure my words 
will sound sweetly iu thy i)ri 1 mean : thy phy- 
sical ears. 



30 

MiLLY. Are you oue of the doctors tlmt go lec- 
turing- around and i)liysicking j)eople's ears. 

Joshua. Xay ; I am not. I till tlie laud, with 
the help ot* my friends: Ephraim, Hezekiah, JS^ehe- 
miah, Zebulon, and divers otliers. My friend Ke- 
siah- — she wlio was my spouse before the spirit came 
upon us and we resolved to establish our hol^' com- 
munity of Shakers, or Friends, — yea, she who is the 
daughter of my friend Zerubabel Hinds, who doth 
expound in the meetings, — she, I say, hath liand- 
mai<lens under her care who toil but lightly in the 
dairy-house and poultry yard. I would take thee to 
our home and place thee therein, if tiiee will tlress 
and deport thyself as do those of our community. 
We are few in numbers yet; but we hoi)e for large 
increase. Will thee go an<l abide with us. 

MiLLY. Wliat !— leave my dear Miss Anna, that 
I h)ve best of all the world, and go oti' with an old 
Philanderer like jou ? {Sohs^ and icalks around in af/- 
Itation) Oh! you — you wicked old reprobate! — to 
come here and try to get me away from my darling 
girl, and my dear old blundering Ned. 

(Ned comes to the side of Milly. 

[Enter Bowser, the Policeman, k. 2 E.) 

Bowser. 'Ere you h'ar agin, my covey, — making 
a disturbance among the women. 

Joshua. Friend, I know thee not. 

Bowser. But h'l knows you, my sly un. You're 
the pal that kicked h'up the row 'ere last night — 
tryin' fer to kill the Gvpsy Queen, who 'as swore 
h'out a warrant agin you for murder, h'and 'ighway 
robbery, h'and manslaughter, h'and 'idrophoby, h'an 
I dunno 'ow much more. 11 'I've got the warrant 
'ere, h'and I'm goin to h'arrest you. Bead that. 
{hands a paper to Joshna) Read tliat, my 'igh-Hyer, 
h'and then come h'on to the magistrate. 

Joshua, [after glancing at the paper) Friend, by 
this warrant thee is commanded to seize the person 
of one called Westing. I am not that man. Seek 



31 

liiin somewbere else. Begone, and disturb me no 
more. 

Bowser. But li'I say yon li'ar the man, li'oidy 
you're got li'up now like a parson. 'Ere's your des- 
cription li'exackly: "Tall, dark 'air and b'eyes, and 
li'im — li'iniperus b'in manner." So, now, come b'a- 
long, my jewel. {aUcrnpU to place his hand on Josh- 
■ua\s shoulder.) 

Joshua, [starting haclicard) Lay not tby band 
upon me, man of tbe law, lest, i)eradventurc, I d > 
fell tbee to tbe earth, — yea, do smite thee hip and 
thigh. 

Bowser. H'o ! you're going to resist, b'ar you ? 
Take that, then. {Aims a blow icith his hillij at Josh- 
na^s head.) 

(Joshua parries the blow, Iniocls Bowser down 
and places one foot on his chest.) 

Joshua, {enraged) I have smitten tbee to tbe 
earth with the weapon of the tiesh, thou base hire- 
ling of the law. Yea, and the spirit doth rage with- 
in me to destroy thee. Bnt I resist ; verily I stay 
my baud ; nor will I further ui)braid thee, lest, per- 
adventure, I do violence unto my inward monitor. 
[to Ned) Art thou be whom tbe maiden doth call 
Edward ? 

!Ned. 'Ees, sor ; ony she do ca' me Xed. 

Joshua. I will thank thee, IViend Edward, if 
thee will express, in the language of the unrighteons, 
the thongbts which rage, — yea, tumnltuously do rage 
within my soul — even to the lifting up of my dia- 
phragm, towards this varlet of tbe clnb, — language 
which my tongue would fain utter, but which is for- 
bidden unto me. 

Ned. ' E's a dom'd fule and a b'owdacious jock- 
aws. 

Joshua. Thee is correct in tby utterance, friend 
Edward, to tbe extent of that which tbee bas ut- 
tered. Yet of a truth it is not sutWciently forceful 
in quality, and in quantity it is scant. I pray tbee 



32 

trj' again, — yea, miglitily to exalt the boru of thy 
wratli. 

Ned. {to Bowser) Tliee's a dom'd weazen-faced, 
])latter lickin' son o' a slunk pnddin\ Thee is ii 
Philly Stoyne knocked doon wi' t'jawboan o' Samp- 
son's jockaws ! Thee doant knoo a parson fra a pi- 
rate, nor a gairden fra a coo-yaird. Get oop ! get 
oop ! tell'ee, an' tak' t'doin'd caircass sooniwhor else ! 

{Exit Bowser, r. 2 e.) 

Joshua. Yea and amen ! Il'm ! Verily I am 
comforted by thy words of wrath, friend Edward. 
The tumult which did oppress me now doth subside, 
even ascometh down calm and peace upon the souls 
of those who do walk in green pastures and beside 
the still waters. I thank thee, friend Edward, foi- 
taking upon thyself the grievous burden of my 
wrath. Thee is a trusty lad — one handy and help- 
ful at a pinch. I would fain have thee, together with 
the maiden, Millicent, dei)art hence with me and 
abide with our community, where thou canst assist 
my friends, Ephraim, Zebulon, and divers others in 
the labors of tlie Held. 

Ned. Noa; oi canna leave t'good Missus, and 
Missis Milly taat sez she a'moast loaves me. Missus 
he's t'best an^ sweetest leddy in a' t'toon, an' oi'll 
dee for her. 

Milly. {dapjy'nuj her hands) Hurra for Ned ! hur- 
ra ! {hugs him) That she is, — that she is; and those 
that say she isn't aint no great judges of saints. 
Ned, while there's breath in our bodies we won't de- 
sert her. 

Joshua. Thee is a worthy lad, friend Edward ; 
and thee, friend Millicent, is one of a thousand, — 
yea, one of ten thousand. Thee is a handmaiden 
comely to the eye of the flesh and comforting to the 
spirit. My soul did yearn towards thee when thou 
didst clasp the neck of thy friend ; and my arms, — 
yea, my rebellious arms did half extend themselves 
to embrace thee. Happily, the spirit did wrestle 



.h. 



33 

valiantly with the flesb, and conquer in time to save 
ine in the great trial. 

[Enter Mrs. Rochester.) 

Mrs. R. I heard loud, angiy words a short time 
ago. Surely they could not have been uttered by 
you, sir, who, by your garb, I take to be a Friend, — 
a man of peace. 

MiLLY. 1^0, Miss Anna ; it was'nt the Shaker 
alone. It was Bowser, the pobceman, who is alter 
that Westing, tor making a disturbance here last 
night. 

Mrs. E. Mr. Westing! Is he here again. 

Ned. — Noa, Missus : he beaut hereawa'. Gin he 
wor, oi'd braak a' ees boans. Booser thowt the Shaa- 
ker Hicks, — him that's yon — {polntin/j towards Josh- 
ua) wor he; auMie wor a-goin' to knock him doou 
for troyin' to moorther t'Gypsy Queen. 

Mrs. K. Absurd! However, I trust the matter 
will be dropped. I do not wish to be involved in 
an3- such i)roceeding. {to Joshua) Friend, is there 
any nuitter in which I can be of service to you ? 

Joshua. No, Friend Anna. 1 did intend to 
l^ause but a moment on thy grounds, attracted by 
the voice of thy handmaiden as it was poured forth 
in song. I was beguiled into conversation with her, 
which was interrupted by the man of the law. I 
take leave of thee and these thy friends. Should 
thee or thy servants ever have urgent need of a 
friend, I pray thee remember Joshua Hicks. That 
man am 1. Our community of Friends is but a few 
miles distant from London, as thou travelest east. 
{Exit R. 2 E.) 

Mrs. R. Milly, I have packed a basket of food for 
poor old Sarah Stubbs, the charwoman and rag- 
gatherer, which I wish to send to her. It is too hea- 
vy lor you to carry ; but as you know where she 
lives, please go there with Ned, who will carry the 
basket. 

MiLLY. Yes, dear, {to Xed) Come, horse — pack ! 



34 

Ned. Haw ! haw ! Tbee be's a rare driver, Mis- 
sis Milly. 

{Exit Milly and Ned into the cottage.) 

Mrs. R. I feel weary and heavy to-day, as tho' 
some calamity were impending" over me. {takes a 
seat on the rustic settee, and leans her head on her 
right hand) I am not accustomed to thonghts of so 
dark a sliade as those which now oppress my poor 
brain. Oh ! heaven ! I trust nothing fearful will oc- 
cur. I am haunted by a terror which I <;annot throw 
ott' — scarcely control, {covers her face with both hands 
and sighs heavily.) 

{Enter Milly with bonnet on, and Ned, bearing a 
large basJcet. They cross the stage and exit \i. 1 E.) 

{Enter Westing, l. 3 e. He advances cautiously 
and pauses behind Mrs. B.) 

Still the question comes up in my mind : Do T 

love mv husbaml ? 1 do not know. I cannot tell. 
Still the voice, often heard, and now more distinctly 
than ever before, sounds in my ears: Didst thou 
well? — didst thou well ? Only those three words; 
and ah ! whet changes do they ring in my soul! as 
I contem[)late the path upon which I have entered, 
and read the sad story which the future is telling. 
(Jan I endure to the end t What end f When will 
it come f Oh ! I have tasted the cup ; — I must drink 
it, though bitter be the dregs. 

West, {softly) Not so. 

Mrs. K. {in affright) What voice was that ? Who 
spoke f {turns her head, sees Westing, and arises and 
confronts him) Sir — how came you liither and what 
mean you ? 

West. I have come, honored madam, to offer an 
Immble apology for my conduct last night. I was 
wrong. Having superior intellect and wisdom, I 
should not hiwe consented, even tacitly, to your hus- 
band's fall into the condition of brutality from which 
your unbounded patience and your angelic goodness 



35 

had partially raised liim. I have had a few hoars 
of calm reflection ; but I own that my better nature 
did not wholly prevail, until your words, just spo- 
ken, fell on my ears, revealing a soul i)ure and noble, 
but torn and outraged by a terrible en)otioii. 

Mrs. II. Did you listen to m}' words, sir, — words 
intended for no mortal ears but minef It was base, 
unworthy of a man of honor. 

West. Humbly and with shame I confess it. It 
was unintentional. I was held by a fasciimtion 
which I could not resist. But the effect has been 
for my good, — it has won me to virtue. It shall be 
for 3'our good, also, if, as I fear, the time shall come 
when you will need the counsel of a true friend — a 
brother. O ! pardon me, and believe that I speak 
only as the highest demand of honor should impel 
an honoiable man. 

Mrs. K. I am half convinced of your sincerity, 
sii-, by your words, — almost wholly so b}' your de- 
meanor. 

{Enter Sarah Stubbs, l. 1 e.. with a Jarf/e hun- 
(llc of raffs 0)1 her bael'. isite stumbles and faUs, scat- 
tering rags around.) 

Mrs. K. Gracious! What have we here f Poor 
old Mother Stubbs ! {Goes to her.) 

West. Good mother, did the fall hurt you ? (.4.s^- 
sist^ her to arise, and replaces the rags in her bundle.) 

Mother S. Not much, thankee, kind gentleman. 
I had one of my stitches of rheumatiz just then. — 
Whenever they ketches me, I allwus falls. 

Mrs. K. Your bundle is very large and heavy. 
Go and sit on the porch until Ned returns, when he 
shall go with you and carry it to your room. He 
ami Milly have gone thither now. I sent them with 
a basket of food and a few other things for your 
comfort. 

Mother S. As you have often done, good, hon- 
ored lady. I think I sh'd a-perished without your 
charity. But the door of my poor room is locked, 



36 

and 3^our servants cannot get in. I will luiiry after 
them. 

Mrs. R. Leave your bundle here. I will send it 
to you. 

Mother S. Thankee kindly, good lady, and you 
too, sir, {to Wisting). ^ot many finely dressed gen- 
tlemen would a done for me what you have to-day. 
God will bless and prosi)er you for it. {Drags her 
bundle to the cottage j^orch^ and exit R. 1 E. 

{Enter ^ R. back, stealthily, RocH. and Marthon. 
Booh ester is drunlc. The woman carries his musliet. 
^She points exultingly towards Westing and Mrs. L\j 
and ichispers to Koch, in dumb show. She and Boch. 
cross over to L., back of the cottage, and disappear, — 
partially appearing ar/ain, but for a moment only, at 
L. 3 E.) 

West. This is a bright day in my calendar. T 
have met a jmre, spotless woman. I have seen squa- 
lid misery, ohl ami toiling, bravely battling with the 
trials of life, honest, hopefnl, God-trusting. It has 
l)ainted a white spot on my soul. Please place in 
the poor woman\s bundle this purse, {hands a purse 
to Mrs. L*.), and I beg you to let her believe that 
you are the giver. 

Mrs. 11. {ptitting the purse in her bosom) Kot so. 
Slie shall know who her generous benefactor is, that 
she may join your name to mine in her niglitly de- 
votions. Your goodness of heart, thus manifested 
in kindness to her, has won my esteem and friend- 
ship. I have had hard thoughts of you, sir; but in 
their place I now feel only the regard of a sister. 
This shall deepen in the future, should you contin- 
ue honorable. 

AVest. Henceforth, dear lady, my highest ambi- 
tion shall be to prove myself worthy of the regard 
which you have so sweetly bestowed upon me. I 
cannot be your husband's friend, for he is unworthy. 
{MUB. 11. gives a slight start) Nay; let me not of- 
fend; — your own soul must confess that my words 
are true. 



37 

Mrs. R. (looling doicn and sigh hu/) Alas! I must 
school myself to bear my sorrow witli patience. 

West, {talinf/ her hand, Idsslnf/ it, and retaining 
it while speaMng) May the good augels keep me ever 
loyal in my holy regard for you. 1 go now ; but I 
will often return, to prove my sacred devotion. 

{Enter Milly and Xed, e. 1 E.) 

RoCH. {partiallg entering L. 3 E.) Ye(/iic)yes, 
damn you both ; we'll 'elp your courting.) 

{A gun is discharged near L. 2 E. Westing falls.) 

Mrs. R. {screaming and running to front c. aitJi 
her hands over her eyes, and blacl'ening her face) Oh I 
oh! oh! I am blinded ! I am blinded! {Falls int<> 
the arms of Milly.) 

MiLLY. Oh ! my dear, darling Miss Anna ! Oh ! 
my precious, my sweet Anna! {/Supports her as she 
sinks to the ground.) 

(RocH. and Martiion run across from back l., 
and escape back r.) 

(Ned runs to Westing, kneels and raises his head. 

West. I am shot through the shoulder. Go and 
help your mistress, boy. {iSn-oons.) 

End of Act Second. 



ACT III. 

Scene 1. A room in the mansion house of Den- 
leigh Manor. 

{Enter Sir Hugh Denleigh, tcith hat and cane, 
as from a wall'.) 

Sir Huch. The morning air of the park has re- 
freshed me, after a night of troubled, feverish sleep. 
I am strangely oppressed of late. My last night's 
dream was wild and starthng in its distinctness. Its 



38 

terror liniiiits me. 1 try in vain to drive away its 
impression upon my mind. Ah ! memory ! memory ! 
Fate! late! My motherless child! — once my dar- 
ling,— but now Oh ! tliat dream ! What does 

it portend f 1 saw lier in i)overty, distress and dan- 
ger, — butteted by tiie worhl and jeered at b^' venoni- 
ons tongues. Anon she was drifting far out on an 
angry ocean, clinging to a frail si)ar, while the waves 
were curling and hissing around her. I tried to 
reach — to save her; but ever the billows interi)osed 
and hurled me back. Drifting — drifting, — she i)assed 
from my sight, as I awoke, affrighted and trembling. 
[Enter a Servant, k. 1 e. He hands a letter to JSir 
Hugh^ icho^ (jhnnf/ his hat and cano to the serra^it^ 
opens the letter and reads in silence for a moment) 

Heavens! what is this? {to sere ant) You may 

retire. [Exit servant n.. 1 E.) {reads) ''Permit one 
with whom you are not acquainted to address a \'e\v 
earnest words to your soul and its keenest sensibili- 
ty. I pray for jour mercy in behalf of your daugh- 
ter, — once erring, no doubt, but now in deepest dis 
tress: made blind bj' the brutality of her husband, 
and houseless, almost homeless. 1, who am her 
friend — who have sworn to be to her as a protecting 
1>rother, went to her house to-(b)y, and learned, alas ! 
that her little property has been squandered away 
by her husband, and that now, driven from her door 
by the otticers of the law, she has gone — no one can 
tell whither. The only clue that I have gained as 
to her fate, is that, with her maid-servant, she went 
away with an old charwoman whom she had be- 
friended. 1 shall cause active search to be made for 
her. I am suffering from a severe Avound ; but with 
such strength as I have 1 will second your efforts to 
lind her. Louis Vv^esting. " 

Here, then, {gazinff at the letter) is the interpreta- 
tion of mj' dream. My Anna, — my motherless dar- 
ling — is blind, in poverty, and houseless ! What dis- 
tress her silly love emotion has brought upon her ! 
Westing! — who is Westing ? Ha ! I wonder if he is 



%iU' 



39 

one of the Westings of Dale- Westing, at the north. 
If so, he comes of good stock, and may be honora- 
ble. But where is he I {scanninff the letter and envel- 
ope in agitation) Fatality ! fatality! — there is no ad- 
dress in the letter, and the postmark is so indistinct 
that 1 cannot make it out. I will go by the swiftest 
train to Dale- Westing, and perhaps I shall there 
learn where he resides, — then back to the rescue of 
my poor, blind, homeless daughter, {calls) John ! — 
John ! {Enter servant R. 1 E.) Hector and the phae- 
ton at the door in five minutes! Tell William to 
saddle Bess, and ride with speed to the station. ]f 
the Northern Liniited has not passed, let it be sig 
naled to stoj) and held there, on a case of greatest 
emergency. {Servant bows and exit, R. 1 E.j {Exit 
Sir Hugh J L. 1 E. 



Scene 2. An obscure street in London. Two hou- 
ses are scan R. and L. back, ivith an alley between 
them running bade to the river Thames^ ichere vessels 
are seen. Laborers are moving around back. On 
the corner of the house l. is a rude sign which reads : 

Sarah Stubbs — Charing done. 

On the opposite house is a swinging sign hanging over 
the alley which reads : 

Jin and Shery. Ladys and Jents cum in & 

VELCUM. 

Both buildings have practicable doors opening upon 
the alley, and the house L. has also a practicable win- 
dow, fronts before which stands a rude wooden bench. 

{Enter, L. 2 E., Sarah Stubbs, carrying a large 
bundle on her back, and Mrs. Rochester, with a 
ribbon tied over her eyes, led by Milly, who also car- 
ries several bandboxes and packages. They enter the 
door of the house L. whence Milly quickly comes out. 

Milly. {advancing two or three paces) Oh, dear! 
Ob, dear ! Oh, dear! My ! My ! My !— Of all the 



40 

upsets in this awful world, I dou't believe there ever 
was another like this. {Several laborers gather near 
and liHten to her) Darling Miss Anna with no home 
to go to but this tumble-down old shanty that is 
stuck in the nasty mud. Jim Rochester, her good- 
for-nothing husband (Ugh I could scratch liis eyes 

out !) has gone to the devil and I'm sure I pity 

the Devil and the sheriff has turned us out of 

doors. If it hadn't a-been for Motlier Stubbs, we'd 
a-iiad nowhere to go to for a shelter. 

{Excitement amonq the Lahorer,% and cries of " Good 
for Mother Stubbs ! ") 

-Oh ! it's a nice mess that awful, awful fellow 



has made of marrying! (I could tear his hair all 

out !) I'd as soon have a lank yellow dog for a hus 
band as such a man as he. He's worse than a thiev- 
ing, sneaking Pawnee. But it's done now, and it 
can't be undone. I suppose I've got to be the main 
stay of this part of the crowd, and I will be, as long 
as my fingers hnhl out. Ned, the dear boy, is work- 
ing for Farmer Shaker Hicks's people, and he has 
]uomised to give me all of his wages to help support 
Miss Anna. I do love that good, honest, sober fel 
low, for all he's only a lout that doesn't know how 
to court worth a cent. But perhaps that's a bles- 
sing, after all ; for love and green wood won't make 
the kettle boil. I'll go to sorting and selling rags 
Avith Mother Stubbs, who, if she is poor, has got the 
biggest go to-heaven heart of anybody that I've 
seen in this foggy, nasty-smelling cit^'. 

{Hats of and cheers among the laboreks, — one of 
nhom enters the house R., quicllg returning with a 
tumbler full of liquor^ which he hands to Mllly.) 

MiLLY. {taliiiuj the tumbler in her hand) I thank 
you, friend, just as much as if I'd a-drank the whole 
barrel. I'll touch the glass with my lips and give 
you a toast which you may all drink. Here's to 
Sarah Stubbs, who found the jewel, Charity, in a 



■^'^ 






c *idv? 



41 

heap of rag's. {Touches the tumhler with her lips and 
hands it hack to the man.) 

[Laborers dr'uik^ handing the tumbler around.) 

{Enter Mother Stubbs, /rowi the house. Laborers 
cheer her.) 

Mother S. Tliankee, friends. I know tlie good 
'earts you 'ave, li'if you are poor, 'a rd working men. 

MiLLY. AVell, Sarah Stnbbs; you've got your 
hands full of us now. You've taken a big contract ; 
but 1 hope it'll turn out to be a good one for you. 

Mother S. I aint a-coniplainin' dear, — least- 
wavs, 1 aint sorry for mvself. 1 do feel nwi'ul bad 
for the poor lady that's been brought so low by niis- 
fortun' — I do. 

MiLLY. It's Satan agin Providence. Mind what 
I say, Sarah Stubbs, — its Satan agin Provi<lence. — 
But as long as I've got fingers to pull, and toes to 
kick, I'll fight for Providence. 

Mother S. The Lord'U provide, dear. 

MiLLY. Yes; but we've got to help the Lord, 
while he's providing. He won't take a lot of lazy 
l)eople on his lap and feed them with mush and milk, 
— let alone beef and vegetables. 

Mother S. We must both do our best, dear. It 
was one of my lucky chances that I was a-passing 
by the 'onse, and saw you and the good lady sitting- 
near the turnstile all forlorn like. 

MiLLY. Sarah Stubbs, you are first cousin to the 
good Samaritan. 

Mother S. I havn't any kin folks of that name. 

MiLLY. The good Samaritan was a scripture^ 
man. He found a poor fellow one day that'd been 
shot and kicked about by a lot of Jericho cowboys, 
and he took care of him and paid all his tavern bills. 

{Excitement among the laborers. 

But we're talking alwut everything except busi 

ness. Now I propose that you and I hold an execu- 
tive session, with open doors. 



42 

Mother S. What's ii zeccative session ? 

MiLLY. O, — it's what they do in Congress, only 
they turn everybody else out, — because they don't 
have spunk enough to let people know what they'ie 
a doing. You and I've got to see what's what and 
Avliat we can do about it. 

{The window of the house L. is raised and Mrs. E. 
appears near it.) 

(Laborers utter exclamations of pity.) 

Mrs. \\. I wanted a little fresh air, Milly, and I 
found the window and o])ened it. 

Ml ELY. It's mighty little fresh air you'll get, my 
])recious, from this street ; but I'm glad that you've 
«h)neit; for we're going to hold a caucus over our 
a ttairs. 

Mrs. II. A caucus ! Milly. 

MiLLY. Yes. That's what they do in America, 
when somebody wauts a nice political job. We're 
going to see how this family is to be supported. 

Mrs. II. Oh ! how sorry I am that I've brought 
all this trouble upon kind Mother Stubbs. 

Mother S. {sohbinf/) I tlmnk the good Lord that 
sent me to your 'ouse this day. It's a i)recious load 
that He has given me to bear. 

Milly. Sarah Stubbs, it isn't everybody that's as 
far along on the road towards heaven as you are, — 
not by seven miles and a half. And now^ to busi- 
ness. We can't get rags unless we go for them, or 
send. It's slow work going; — I think we had better 
send. 

Mother S. Who will you send, dear! and w^here 
will they go ! 

Mtlly. Let me alone for that. I propose a i)art- 
nership. What do you say 1 

Mother S. Whatever you like, dear. 

Milly. Have you a large card, and a marking- 
pot and brush in the house? 

Mother S. Yes, dear. 

Milly. Then i^lease fetch them. 



44 

(Mother, ^.fetches a large piece of cardboard^ 
marhing-pot and brush from the house.) 

MiLLY. Now see here, — I'm going to paint a sign. 
( ^y rites on the card, while the laborers gather near^ 
watching her) There, — how will that do? (reads) : 

STIIBBS & BLOOM. 

Cash paid for Rags, 

& 

Please to hurry them along. 

[Hangs the card against the side of the house L.) 

(Laborers excitedly exclaim : " Bully lor yon, Miss !" 
"Hurra tor the Yankee girl !" " Let's helj) her !" 
'* Let's get rags tor her !" — Exeunt laborers R. and 

L.) 

MiLLY. Now we'll investigate the buttery. My 
dear girl needs her supper, and I'm hungry, too. 

[Exit MiLLY and Mother S. into the house. Mrs. 
11. retires from the window.) 

[Entjr KocHESTER, R. 1 E., drunJc and tintidg. He 
staggers towards the window L. back, ichich is Jiastih/ 
tihut.) 

ROCH. ' Ello !— 'ow's this ? {loals at Milly's sign ) 
H'old Stubbs' got a pardner. She's comin' h'out 
a-bloomin'. ll'l'll bone 'er for a shillin'. [goes to the 
door and raps. Ko response. Continues to rap, and 
calls out): H'l say, h'old woman — h'open the door. 

Mother S. {Fartiallg opening the door and tool:- 
ing out) What do you want I 

JiocH. H'l say,' h'old gal, — h'I'm broke — busted 
— l)layed h'out; haint got a farden, an' h'I'm 'ungry. 
Tip us a tanner, h'old queen o' guineas. 

Mother S. I am very poor. You mustn't come 
here to beg. 

Koch. But h'l say, h'old lady — m^- wife has guv 
you many a pund, an' h'I've come to collect the h'in- 
terest. [laughs in a drunJcen manner.) 

Mother S. I know you now, James Rochester. 
If you don't go away, I'll call the police. 



45 

EocH. Damn the navvies. H'l can lick Bowser 
Ii'any day. H'if you don't giw nie a sliillin', li'I'll 
bust your blooniin' b'old door, — see'f* b'l don't. 

Mrs. K. {inside) Here is a sbilHiig-, niotber. Give 
it to liini. 

{Mother JStuhbs hands him the money.) 

Koch. Good lor jour pardner, li'old lady. Wbo 
is she i 

Mother S. Go away now, and don't come here 
again. {Closes the door.) 

liocH. Cuss me h'if I don't tiiougli. The h'old 
gal's pardner res(/<y'e)respex h'onest jjov't^', h'and I'll 
bone 'er tor a tanner h'e very day. {Crosse j overt) 
the house R. and enters the door. 

{Enter Westing and Bowser, l. 1 e. Westlnf/^s 
Jaft arm is in a sling. They stop near the entrance.) 

West. You say that the lady and her maid have 
come to this house, {points towards the house L. 

Bowser. That's vere h'l've traced 'er, sir ; h'and 
a good bit of vork it vos. 

West. This, then, is where the rag-gatherer 
lives. 

Bowser. That's the 'ouse, sir; {stares at the si(;n) 

blowed h'if the Yankee girl 'asn't h'already set 

h'up business. Look yon, sir. {pointiny.) 

West, {reading the sign and laughing) She has, 
indeed. I have read a good deal about Yankee 
grit, but I never saw it exemplitie<l before. Mrs. 
Rochester is in safe hands, for I think her maid is 
faithful and devoted to her. This assurance leaves 
me free to act in her service. She must be quickly 
remoA'ed from this miserable place. 

(Westing and Bowser jMr/m//^ icithdraic.) 

{The windoic of the house L. y*.s- cautiously opened, and 
MiLLY peeps out, then closes it again. 

Bowser. That's the maid, sir. 
W^EST. I recognize her. Let us watch a few mo- 
ments. 



4G 

{The win do IV is again opened.) 

MiLLY. {loohinfi out) It' that sneak discovers that 
we are here, then good-bje to peace till somebody 
throws him into the river. 

{Enter R. & L., LABORERS, fetcliimi pael'ages of 
rags which MiUy receives through the icindow.) 

MiLLY. 1 will weij»h them, friends, and hand out 
your money. 

(Laborers varioush/ replg: No money, lass. We 
fiive them to you. We'll fetch more. Hurra ! lor 
the brave Yaidvce i>irl. 

West, {aside^ to Bowser) All is well for the pres- 
ent. Here is my card ; [hands B. a card) take it t(> 
Prof. Blagdon, the occulist, in Piccadilly. Tell him 
to come hither to morrow morning", and examine 
^Irs. Ilochester's eyes. Say to him that I will call 
upon him to morrow at twelve o'clock sharp, to hear 
his rei)oit. Here are two guineas, [hands B. money) 
I will double the sum to you, if you will conduct the 
Professor hither. 

Bowser. H'I'll be true as steel, sir. 'Opes you'll 
speak a good void for me to the chief. H'l wants to 
rise, sir. 

\Vest. I will do so. Now go. the Professor must 
have this card in one hour. Find him, wherever he 
may be. [Exeunt West, and i?., L. 1 E.) 

[Enter liocH. from the house R. He staggers 
toicards the window^ ichich Milly hastily closes.) 

Koch. ' Ello ! h'old Stubbs ; who's your i)ard- 
ner ! Bring 'er h'out, you h'old princess o' shillin's. 
JJring 'er h'out, h'old woman, and le'ss see'er sliine ! 
[Goes to the tvindow and shales it.) 

[Laboht^u^ angrily crclaim: Drunken brute! Kick 
'im ! Give Mm a pounding! Duck Mm h'in the 
river! They seize Bochester, drag him down the 
alley, and throic him into the river, from which they 
rescue him, and then force him out of sight, back r. 



47 

{Enter, L. 2 E., Ned, in Shaker garb, hearing a 
large baalet of floicers.) 

Ned. This be t'hoose, sure/]/, where Friend Mis- 
sis Milly an' Friend Missus Anna he's, — yah, veri/y, 
h'm ! Oi'll knock on t'doore. Peradhaps they be's 
hereaway. {Raps on the door.) 

Milly. {opening the icindoiv and looking out) If 
it's tliat dreadful villain a|?ain, I'll scream murder. 
{turning her face) Sarah Stubbs, don't you open that 
door. 

Ned. Sure/7/, yea, veri/^, h'm ! taat be's friend 
Milly's voice. {Comes around the corner.) Missis 
Milly ! Missis Milly ! it be's ony oi. 

Milly. O, — it's \ou, is it, dear old Ned. I'm 
^•lad to see 3'ou. Wait a moment. {Comes out from 
the door.) 

Ned. Oi's moij»hty glod to see 'ee, friend Missis 
Milly — t'laas taat oi loave as t'peeg" loaves t'w«iter 
brookes. II 'm ! 

Milly. Why, Ned, have you turned to shaking 
Avith the Shakers ? 

Ned. ' Ees, friend Missis Milly. Friend Ephra- 
ham 'ee do say taat oi ha' t'speerit; an' loike eneaf 
oi do, for oi feel quair an shaky loike soomtoimes. 

Milly. Ned, it isn't every spirit that can catch 
as good a boy as you are, — not by a graveyard full 
of lunatic. . But what have you here! {pointing to 
the basket. 

Ned. Soam poosies for'ee an't'good Missus; an' 
yere be a bit o' mooney, {hands her money) to help 
'ee in tribulation an' sorrow. H'm ! 

Milly. Ned Bunt, you're as good as a whole gos- 
pel wagon load of street missionaries. You're line 
gold. {Raps on the window and calls): Dear Miss 
Anna and Mother Stubbs, come out. Here's Ned ; 
and he's brought us money and flowers. 

{Enter Mother S.from the house, leading Mrs. R. 

Mrs. E. Where are you, Ned ? {feeling around) 
Come and take me by the hand, you faithful boy. 



\ ;.^ 



48 

Ned. {wiping his eyes as he tales her hand) Oh ! it 
do be awful to see 'ee in thees a-place, an' thee 
bloind, dear friend Missus Anna. It do braak moi 
yeart loike. 

Mr8. R. True heart! I have yet niucli to be 
thankful for, with such tender friends around me. 
My misfortune is perhaps a Just punishment. 

Ned. {vehemently) Noa ! telFee ; noa ! friend Mis- 
sus. Thee be's too goode to be used in this away. 
It's dom'd — h'm ! — it be too hard for thee wha never 
hurt yan o' God's creeters. It's na Proovidence taat 
done it; it be's t'dom'd — h'm ! — it be t'J)evil, sure, — 
blaast 'ees boanes ! {Throiis his hat upon the ground) 

Mrs. R. We must all be resigned, true friend. 
How can I thank you for lielping me ? Milly says 
that 3'ou have brought her money for our expenses. 
I would refuse to receive it, if I did not think my re- 
fusal would give you ])ain. 

Ned. {resuming his hat) Taak it, friend Missus, 
an' mooch goode may it do 'ee. Oi'm yearty glod 
taat oi'm able to helj) 'ee, in sore misfortun' an mis 
ery. An' yere be [)00sies, Missus. {Hands the basket 
to her.) 

Mrs. E. {talcing the haslet and smelling at the flow- 
ers) How kind ! how generous! how thoughtful! — 
Koses, lilies, pinks and pansies. They are very sweet 
and fresh. 

{Ehtr Westing, l. 1 e. He motions all to Iceep 
silence respecting his presence^ as he advances.) 

{Enter, unperceivedj Marthon, r. 1 e. JShe tcith- 
draws partially.) 

{Enter Laborers, r. & l., fetching more rags, 
which Milly receives — thanking them. Laborers cluster 
around Mrs, B., gazing with delight at the flowers.) 

Ned. Oi'll fetch more poosies, friend Missus An- 
na ; an' peradhaps t'sweet friend Missis Milly can 
sell 'em, gin she troys. Taat'll may-be help 'ee. 

Mrs. R. Compassionate, thoughtful boy ! I, too, 
must do something. I will distribute them among 



\"'' 



49 

the faitlifiil i)eoj)le wlio are giving rags to Mother S. 
and Mill3'. {Makes offers of the flowers.) 

(Laborers variously exclaim: Sell them, poor 
lady. Sell them. We'll bny them, etc.) 

Mrs. R. If you so wish, good people, I will sell 
them to yon. I cannot see to pick over rags; but I 
can sing, if you would like to hear me. 

(Laborers cj7<?/fl/wi: Good ! Good! etc.^ and search 
their pockets for monei/. Westing motions them to 
desist J — holding up a piece of gold.) 

(Mrs. II. sings, ichile handing out flowers): 




r4it 



-i — f— I — *■ 



trr=:i 



a_Tj 



:j=1=i 



z->.b- 



--S^ 



-^-^ 



1. I am blind, bereaved.andlonely.Pit- y thou poor me; 

2. Buy my darlings. buy my flowers. Fresh "from dfwy lea. 

3. Here's a vi;) - let, modest.neatest.Hued like az-ure sea, 

4. Help the lone-ly,blind,despair-ing, rit- y thou poor me. 




-J^c\i 



\~ 



s> 



I've but pleasant wish-es on - ly, Kind one, for thee. 

Born among the summer bow-ers, Kind one, for thee. 

Shedding per-fume pur-est, sweetest, Kind one, for thee. 

Like the gen -tie an-gel car -ing, Kind one, for thee. 



"^EU 



-4-- 



~x 



^-^^- 



Earth for thee hath scenes of beauty. Skies are blue and fair; 

Here's a rose-bud. rich, the rar- est Daughter of the day. 

Here's car-na- tion.pal-ing.blushing Like a maid -en meek, 

Buy my dar-lings,buy my beauties,Children of the sun, 



g 



r=t 



W 



-:\- 



i^ 



"0 






H 



Mine is but a life of du-ty— Hope is nought but care. 
Here's a li - ly, dear-est.fairest For a bright bouquet. 
With the warm life-currents flushing O'er her downy cheek. 
They will teach thee ten-der du-ties, Till their day is done. 



50 

{During the singing, Westing tal'es Jfoivcrs from 
her hand, ichich he distributes among the laborers, — 
at the same time dropping gold coins into the basket.) 

(Laborers, with suppressed voices, exclaim : Gold ! 
Gold! Good for the stranger! At the close of the 
song, they exclaim: Ten golden guineas! Hurrah! for 
the stranger, — swinging their hats. 

!N^ED. Hooroar ! hooroar ! didst ever see t'beat 
o' thot i 

(Westing motions all not to reveal his name. Exit 
Westing.) 

Mrs. li. Who is this stranger, that has bouglit 
the flowers at such an enormous price? {feels around) 
Let me take him by the hand and thank him. 

Mother S. He's gone, dear lady, without tell- 
ing us his name. 

Mrs. K. May Heaven reward him. 

(Lights down — night is coming on.) 

MiLLY. {to Mrs. B.) It is beginning to grow dark, 
dear. Let us go into the hou^e and ])rei)are for the 
night, {to the Laborers) Friends, noble-hearted Eng- 
lishmen, we will pray for you to-night. 

{Exit Laborers, r. & l. back, with hats off.) 

Mrs. K. Yes; we will pray for them and for the 
generous stranger. Ned, take my thanks and bles- 
sings with you as \'ou return to the community. God 
will surely reward you. Good night. 

Ned. Goode noight, friend Missus Anna. Oi'U 
koom agean, — oi'll koom agean, wi' moore poosies 
an' mooney for 'ee. 

MiLLY. Ned, it isn't everybody that I'd let kiss 
me, — not by five cents' worth of dudes. But you, 

Ned, — if it would obleege you whj- {offering 

her cheelx.) 

Ned. awkwardly Jcissing her) Hooneyan' t'hooney 
coomb! H'm ! Oi can taste it noo. {smacl'in{/ his 
lips.) Ecod! H'm!Efegs!it do run aw doou moi 



61 

back loike. Goode noigiit Missis Milly, moi dear 
loave. {Exit L. 1 E., carrying the basJcet.) 

{Exit Mrs. 11., Mother S. and Milly into the 
house.) 

{Exit Laborers, r. & l. and down the allci/, ex- 
claiming: God bless the blind lady! Hurrab ! for 
Mother Stubbs. Hurrah ! for the brave Yankee lass. 

Marthon. {advancing cantiousli/) Ha ! it was 
gold ! bright, shining gold! and from his hand, who 
never crossed the poor Gjpsy's palm with even a 
silver sixpence. Ha ! one shall know of this whom 
they would scarce care to see. From the hand of 
m3 enemy ! curse him ! — and into her hand instead 
of Natton's ! into the hand of his new mistress ! — 
Sdly fool ! {makes a gesture of menace towards the 
house) minion ! — clutch well your gold! It may not 
be yours to-morrow. {Exit R. '2 e.) 



Scene 3. — Evening. A plain Room in a Shalcer^s 
house. A table and a lighted candle are represented 
on the right slide. 

{Enter Joshua Hicks, l. 1 e., counting on his fin- 
gers. 

Joshua. Three yearlings, atone pound ten each, 
is four pound ten. Verily the trading was not brisk ; 
but it sulficeth. Better a little, with thankfulness, 
than great riches with a proud stomach. H'm ! And 
the poultry and eggs, — likewise the vegetables and 
a]>ple sauce, — they sold fairly — yea, fairly. A trifle 
more on the pound for the rolls of butter would not 
have been too much ; but it w^as passing well. The 
day hath not been altogether propitious ! but the 
sunshine of prosperity may come on the morrow. 

{Enter Westing l. 1 E., hastily, as though from a 
rapid drive.) 

West, {aside) This must be the man. 
Joshua. Does thee seek any one, friend? 



52 

West. Yes; I bave come to see one Joshua 
Hicks. 

Joshua. I am that mau, friend. What is thv 
wish 1 

West, {removing his hat) 1 have come to jou, sir, 
on an errand of mercy and charity. 

Joshua. Thee is welcome, friend. Cover tliy 
head again. Kemoving" the hat when conversing' 
with a fellow man is a vain custom. It smacketh of 
the manners of the idohitors. What is thy name, 
and what does tliee require 1 

West, {putting his hat on his head) I am Louis 
Westing, — of the family of Westing of l>ale\Vest- 
ing. 

Joshua. Verily, a good stock, — albeit somewhat 
vain ; but honorable and of long ancestry. Speak 
thy wish, friend Lewis. 

West. I have come hither from a scene of pov- 
erty and wretchedness, — honest industry, but great 
destitution. A lady who, as 1 have learned, is the 
daughter of Sir Hugh Denleigh, of J)enleigh Manor, 
is in deep distress. One year ago she married, clan 
destinely, an ignorant, low-bred fellow, who has 
squandered her property and maltreated her. 

Joshua. Maltreated, did thee say ? 

West. Yes. In a tit of jealousy and drunken 
fury, he caused an assault to be made upon her with 
a loaded musket, which blinded her and wounded 
me. He escaped, and is still in hiding. I shall not 
])refer a charge against him, as I would spare his 
wife the pain and scandal of a legal proceeding. 

Joshua. Verily he was a man of wrath. 1 trust 
he had no cause for his jealousy. 

West, {raisim/ his hat) None, so help me Heaven. 

Joshua. It is well, friend Lewis. What does 
thee require, in which I can be of service to thee and 
her ? 

West. I beg an asylum for her until such time 
as 1 can see and prevail upon Sir Hugh Denleigh to 
pardon and receive her again in the home of her 



53 

youth. Meantime, as her Deed is urgent, I have se- 
cured the services of a celebrated occulist in London, 
Avho will visit her to morrow morning, in her present 
place of abode, examine her e^es, and i>erform an 
operation upon them, if he deem it possible that her 
eyesight can be restored. 

Joshua. Thee has done well, friend Lewis. 

West. She is now in a miserable lodging, in the 
city, in the midst of poverty, but surrounded by 
those who would die in her defence, if need be. 1 
would have her brought to this lovely place, where, 
if her eyesight be restored, she shall behold, from 
the first, only pure and pleasant scenes. 

Joshua. A daughter of him who is called Sir 
Hugh Denleigh ! It is strange. And in poverty 
and wretchedness! Fetch her hither, friend Lewis. 
She shall find a home with us, — albeit not like to 
the splendor and luxury of Denleigh Hall. 

West. I thank you, sir, for her and for myself. 
I will i)ay whatever charges you may make for her 
entertainment. l*oor, suffering Mrs. Kochester will 
find comfort, tenderness and repose here among your 
peaceful people. 

Joshua. Mistress Kochester ! did thee say ? — 
Hath she a handmaiden named Millicent ? and did 
she dwell in a cottage nigh unto the river? 

West. The same. 

Joshua, {aside) I marvel that friend Edward did 
not tell me of tliis misfortune, [to West.) Is the 
handmaiden still with thy friend f 

West. Yes. They were both taken by a rag- 
gatherer named Stubbs, whom Mrs. Kochester had 
befriended, to her miserable room, where they are at 
])resent sheltered. Milly, the maid, — a thoughtful, 
shrewd Yankee girl, — has even established a rag- 
gathering^tusiness, with Mrs. Stubbs, for the support 
of her mistress; and, from the way that she mana- 
ges, I think she will soon have all the rag-pickers in 
that part of the city in her employ, if she is not re- 
moved from among them. 



54 

Joshua, [dryly) Very likely, friend, — yea, very 
likely. I, too, can testify as to lier energy and as- 
tuteness. Fetch both the mistress and the maid, 
also the rag-gathering woman, even she that is called 
Stubbs. They shall all be welcome to our hospital- 
ity. Yet wait. Tarry thou with us to-night. The 
morrow will be the Sabbath, wherein neither we nor 
our beasts may work. The succeeding day will be 
market day, and T nmy not neglect the weigiity af- 
fairs of our community. If on the tliird day of the 
week thee will come hither, I will go with tliee to the 
l>resent abiding i)lace of thy friend, and oft'er her a 
home among the people of our faith. I will order 
thy beast to the stable, and give thee supper and 
lodging. [Exeunt L. 1 E.) 



Scene 4. Same as seeno second. Lights loic doicn. 
Wight. 

[Enter Marthon and Koch., e. 1 e., pecrlnf) can- 
tlousli/ around, lliey advance to the uindow L. and 
try to open it. It is fastened securely. They go to the 
door, irhlch Bochester forc?s open ivith a jimmy. Be 
enters the room. Marthon comes back to the wi)idow. 
Soon are heard screams and cries of Thieves ! thieves ! 
murder! help! Milly opens the window, screaming: 
Thieves ! help ! help ! Marthon seizes and tries to 
choke her. Laijoreus enter ii. & l. 2 E. They seize 
Marthon, force her down /upon the bench and hold her 
there. Bochester comes from the door, grasping one 
end of a purse, which Mrs. R. tries to prevent him 
from stealing. He drags her out, saying: "Let go, 
3'oujade! Westing's mistress! Let go !" Throws 
her to the ground.) 

Mrs. R. [falling) Oh ! Heaven ! it is my husband ! 

[Enter MOTHER S., who goes to the assistance of 
Mrs. B.) 

[Bochester tries to escape R. 2 E., but is caught by 
Laborers, tcho drag him to the bench where Marthon 



55 

is held. Laborers tie the hands of Marthon and Roch. 
together with a cord which Mllly hands them from the 
windoiv.) 

MiLLY. {to Laborers) Take tbem away, please, 
and give them cowboy justice : — five minutes for 
spiritual refreshment, and a swift run — up a tree. 

{Exeunt Laborers with prisoners, R. 2 E. 

MiLLY. {looking right and left from the windoiv) 
Where, oh! where is my darling- girl ? 

Mother S. {who is JcneeUng beside Mrs. Rochester, 
supporting her head) She is here, dear. Come and 
help me. 

{As they are trying to raise Mrs. Rochester from the 
ground, the Curtain is lowered.) 

End of Act Third. 



ACT lY. 

Scene 1. — A City IStrect. 

{Enter Westing, l. 1 e., leisurely walling to c, 
where he suddenly stops and gazes to R. E. earnestly.) 

West. A wonderful likeness, truly. Can it be 
possible that it is a deception. I will certainly speak 
to him. 

{Enter, R. 1 E., Sir Hugh Denleigh, icitha card 
in his hand which he consults.) 

Sir Hugh. This is the street where he resides. 
His hotel must be near, {advances to c.) 

West, {to Sir H., raising his hat and handing him 
a card.) Pardon me, sir, if I am wrong. Your re- 
semblance of a lady in whose welfare 1 am greatly 
interested must be iny excuse for accosting you. 

Sir Hugh, {gruffly, as he tales the card) Very 
strange proceeding! {Sloivly wipes and adjusts his 
eyeglass, then looks at the card. Ha ! {aside) the very 
man that I am looking for! {to Westing) Your par- 



56 

(Ion is most gratefiill.v granted, sir ; for, if this card 
does not deceive me, I am deeply in yonr debt for 
the i)romise of vahiable service in the canse of a be- 
loved member of my family. 1 am Sir Hngh Den- 
leigh. 

AVest. Then 1 am trnly fortnnate. I am, as my 
card annonnces, Mr. Lonis Westing. I had the hon- 
or to address a short note to you a few days ago, in 
the interest of Mrs. liochester, who was in i)overty 
and distiess. As I received no reply from you, I 
feared that my api)eal had been made in vain. 

8iR Hugh, (testilif) But how the Devil, man, was 
I to rei)ly, >\hen I didn't even know where you were 1 

West. Did not my letter inform you, Sir Hugh f 

Sir Hugh. No; it had no address. But your aj)- 
])eal was not in vain. 1 have been searching for you 
from the very moment in which 1 read your letter. 
I have just returned from Dale-Westing, whither I 
Averit, hoping there to receive information which 
would put me in communication with you. 

West. Could I have been so stupid as to omit 
my address ? But I was suffering from ]iain at the 
time of writing. That, doubtless, was the cause of 
my carelessness. Now, however, that 1 have met 
you, and my reception has been so kind, I cannot 
but feel that all will soon be well for your daughter. 

Sir Hugh. The scoundrel who maltreated her — 
where is he ? 

West. Sentenced by the court to transi)ortation 
for life, for burglary and attempted murder, — the 
particulars of which 1 will give you anon. 

Sir Hugh. Then I am truly happy. Will you 
take me at once, sir, to the house where my daugh- 
ter is staying? 

West. She is no longer in the city, sir. I sought 
the aid of a community of very worthy people, — 
Shakers, peaceful and kindly, — whose settlement is 
a few miles distant from the city, and with them she 
is no\v living — contented and measurably happ3', — 
breathing pure air and receiving the kindest atten- 



57 

tioiis. I have a tlioroughbied which will take ns 
there in twenty minutes. I and my horse are at 
your service, Sir Hugh. 

Sir Hugh, {with emotion) That I can be truly 
grateful to yon, sir, I trust that the future will abun- 
(lantly show. I will call upon m^* solicitor, for a few 
minutes' consultation, and in one hour I will be at 
your hotel, ready to accompany you. Meantime, — 
{both raise their hats, how in silence, and exeunt — iSir 
Hugh R., Westing L. 



Scene 2. — The Shaler Settlement, by Daylight. In 
the background are two plain Houses. Jn the fore- 
ground is a lawn with two tong benches 11. &: i.. par- 
allel to each other.) 

{Enter, in single files, Shaker men l. 3 e. Sha- 
ker WOMEN, R. 3 li. They gravely march down and 
tale seats on the benches facc7txp~e(ieh other. At a sig- 
nal, given by the male leader, they arise and dance — 
singing as follows: 



dr::: 




i 



» 



1. Shake, shake a - long, a- shake a - long a- Mo - ses, 

2. Shake, shake a - long, a -shake a - long a - L^a - vid, 

3. Shake, shake a - long, a- shake a - long a- To - ter, 

4. Shake, shake a - long, a- shake a - long a - Dan - lei, 
* Clio. Hi - yah yah, yah, hi - yah hi - yali, 

+f 9 9 9 9—. j 



Shake, shake -a - mo 
Shake, sliake-a - nie. 
Shako, shake- a - me, 
Shake, shake - a - me. 
Hi - yah yah, 

* To be snug alter eaoli verse. 



-I— 

—I — 

tl 

as thee 
till I 
till I 
If I 
yah, hi - 



;b 



ilis 

am 

am 

grow 

yah 



po - ses. 
sav - eil, 
sweet - cr. 
ear - nal. 
hi - yah. 



jiyThe hands should hang- dangling, nearly as 
high as the breast, and the movements should be 
])erfectly simultaneous. Advance three steps and 
recede three steps. Kepeat this. Then, in the cho- 
rus, standing in lines, ea€h should turn, respectively 



58 

K. & L., working' their hands up ami down, as tho' 
heating" time — 3 beats K., 4 beats L., and vice versa. 
After each chorus, all, standing, the two lines facing- 
each other, should rise on their toes and say — H^m! 

{After performing the dance, then gravely file only 
R. & L. 3 E. 

[Enter Milly, dressed as a Shalceress.) 

MiLLY. I wonder what this'U all come to. Here 
am I a-shaking and a-hi-yahing with a pack of crazy 
fools; and Mother Stubbs, she's a-shaking and hi- 
yahing ; and Ned, he's a-shaking and hi-yahing, dit- 
to, — and bless me if I know what it all means. 1 
ain't certain that I've got the right kink of the el- 
bow yet, — {workinfi her hands up and doicn, as in the 
dance); but I do tlie best that I can. Under the 
circumstances, I think this is the proper thing to do, 
for our part of the crowd is a shaky h)t, anyway. It 
it were not for the sake of my i)oor blind darling, 
I'd shake the community and get out of it in a hur- 
ry. We're a heap better off than we were in that 
tilthy street in the city, among the fever-breeding 
rag^. They're neat, hosjntable people here. If they 
would stop shaking and hi yahing, they'd be a very 
decent lot. 

[Enter Joshua Hicks, who comes to Millg^s side.) 

Joshua. Friend Millicent, did not the man of 
medicyne proclaim that Friend Anna would recover 
her eyesiglit this day? 

Milly. Yea, P'riend Joshua ; he commanded that 
we remove the covering at the seventh hour, — even 
at the going down of the sun. 

Joshua. Peradventure she and thee may decide 
to remain with us and become shining lights of our 
faith. 

Milly. Peradventure we may [aside) not. H'm ! 

Joshua. Friend Millicent, how doth thee feel f 

Milly. I feel. Friend Joshua, I feel very queer, — 
yea, with a sort of rising in my stomach, like unto 



59 

doii^li that hath been leavened. H'ni ! 

Joshua. It is doubtless the ojeration of the spi- 
rit, Friend Millicent. I pray thee do not keep it 
down. 

MiLLY. Yea, Friend Joshua, it is doubtless as 
theesayestf for it seemeth to ascend — to uplift, as 
it were, my diaphragm. 

Joshua. Of a truth tliee is in a goodly way. Let 
the trouble of spirit abide with thee for a season, 
and the tui moil will subside. Tiiee will come out 
bright and clean, — yea, a lamb redeemed. 

JVliLLY. H'm! xVheady do 1 feel relief, yea, as one 
to whom a medicyne hath been administered. IFm ! 

Joshua. J)oes thee still yearn for the pomps and 
vanityes of the worhl, Friend Millicent f 

]MiLLY. ^'ay, Friend Joshua. — \eiiJyi\ot', {aside) 
not by a ten-foot sermon and a doxolo//^. ' 

Joshua. Of a truth. Friend Millicent, thy con- 
version hath been sudden. I welcome thee to tlu^ 
fold, and will now bestow ui)on thee the embrace of 
fellowship and the kiss of peace. {Attempts to cm- 
brace and I'iss her.) 

MiLLY. {slap2)im/lisfacc) You horrid old goat! 
You — you santimonious abomination! {throns her 
honnct at his head) if you try that again, I'll scratch 
your eyes out ! 

Joshua, {in confusion) Friend JMillicent ! Friend 
Millicent! why this violence and agitation? I did 
but offer thee kindness and brotherly fellowship. 

MiLLY. Kindness and brotherly fiddlesticks ! — 
I don't want such fellowship from an old Philander- 
ing bell-wether like you ! If you don't behave your- 
self, Pll pull your hair all out. I'll make you see 
stars in your coffee for six months. 

Joshua. Consider, maiden ; thou, and she that 
is dear unto thee, — yea, even the youth, Edward, 
are <lependent upon me for protection. Thee must 
sui)press thy anger. 

MiLLY. Now look here, Joshua Hicks: if you so 
much as lay one straw in the way of the peace and 



60 

comfort of my (larling" Anna, I'll blow yon n]) before 
the whole commnnity. If yon don't treat Ned rif>ht, 
I'll raise a swarm of hornets abont your ears, that'll 
make yon want to take a mule train for Jerusalem 
by way of Jericho. 

Joshua, [in consternation) I am penitent, maid- 
en. I hnmbly do confess that for a moment the spi- 
rit yielded to thy charms and beguiled me ; for thee 
is very comely and sweet, — yea, as honey, that hath 
a sligiit flavor of sharpness. I will see tliat thee and 
thine are well cared for while abiding" here ; and l 
will hasten thy departnre to dwell among thy people 
in the peace of thy proper society. [Exit L. 3 e. 

MiLLY. There, now ! I've gone and done it, this 
time ; but I ain't sorry, — I'm glad ! The old he goose! 
I've fixed him. He won't make love to me again in 
;i hurry. Besumes her bonnet) Now I must be a Sha- 
ker again, {(leiniirelij) Peradventure the spirit will 
return to me. H'ju ! {Exit K. 3 E. 

{Entjr, L. 1 E., Sir Hugh Denleigh and West- 
ing.) 

West. I have purposely neglected until now, 
Sir Hugh, from telling you that 1 sent a celebrated 
occulist to see your <langhter. Afrer performing a 
delicate operation ui)on her eyes, he has assured me 
that she will recover her eyesight, even naming the 
time that the bandage shall be removed from her 
eyes and she be ])ermitted to o])en them in the light. 

Sir Hugh. Yonr thoughtful kindness, sir, beg- 
gars my gratitude. It was a service that I ought to 
have rendered ; but you know the reason why I did 
not : that I knew not where she was. When will 
the appointed time arrive ? 

West. At seven o'clock this evening. 

Sir Hugh. It is nearly that hour now. I long- 
to see and embrace her. 

West. Please, in this instance, to be guided by 
me. Sir Hugh. A sudden shock, before she has had 
time to recover from the change, might be injurious 



61 

to her. I promise that 3 ou shall embrace her in a 
few minutes. 

{Enter Ned Bunt, l. 3 e.) 

Sir Hugh, {to Westing) Is this the Shaker, Josli- 
ua Hicks f 

West. No, Sir Hugh. This man was formerly 
Mrs. liochester's servant. At the time when she 
found herself reduced to poverty, after bein"' blind- 
ed, this faithful fellow came hither to work. His 
little accumulation of wages he recently placed in 
the hands of Mrs. Rochester's maid, to help in sup- 
porting them both. 

Sir Hugh. A good fellow, — I will richly reward 
hira. 

Ked. Oi doan't want ony reward, friend, for do- 
in' whaat wor roight an' Christian loike. 

Sir Hugh. Well said, my faithful boy. Never- 
theless I will find some way to do you good. Is your 
mistress in one of these houses. 

Ned. Gin ye means friend Missus Anna, she he's 
yon. {pointing to the houw R.) 

Sir Hugh, {to West.) Can we rely upon this 
man's discretion ! 

West. We can rely upon his faithfulness, and I 
think he is discreet. 

Sir Hugh, (fo Ned) Can you contrive, my man, 

to have your mistress 1 mean {aside) Oh ! how 

can 1 speak that name! {to him) Mrs. Rochester 

walk out upon the lawn, so that I may see her ? 

Ned. An' wha for wud thee see herf She he's 
bloind rn' sad, — t'poor leddy. 

West, {to Ned) This gentleman, Ned, is Mrs. 
Rochester's father. He has come to rescue her and 
take her back to her girlhood's home. 

Ned. Oi axes pardings, oi do, friend. Thee shall 
see t'good leddy. Oi'll bring her to 'ee at ance. 

Sir Hugh. For reasons which I cannot now ex- 
plain, my man, I do not wish her to know immedi- 
ately that I am here. Can you keep my secret, and 



n 



J,i,,;. , 



-Uni, 



G2 

contrive some pretext for her to walk out upon tlie 
lawn f 

Ned. ' Ees, friend. Wudst ha' t'maid coom wi' 
t'leddy? She weant walk oot wi'out friend Millj'. 

Sir Hugh. Yes, if that be necessary. 

Ned. Tlien, gin she knows thee, thee'd betther 
hoide behoind yan o' t'trees; for friend Milly do ha' 
oies taat be vary broight an' sharp. 

{Sir Hugh and Westiuff retire partially icithin the 
entrance L. 1.) 

{Ned goes towards the house R., hut quicJdy returns 
to )Slr Hugh and Westing.) 

Ned. She wor joost coomin' oop fra t'back lawn. 
{Goes back towards the house.) 

{Enter Mrs. K. and Milly, r. 3 e.) 

Mrs. R. How sweet and fresh the air is, Milly. 
Oh ! would that 1 could now see this peaceful home 
to which Mr. Westing- has brought us. 

Milly. Be patient, dear ; you wdl soon see it. 

Sir Hugh, aside^ with emotion) Oh! my mother- 
less darling ! lean .scarce restrain my impatience 
to clasp you in my arms. 

West. Pray suppress you emotion, sir ; a shock 
to her now might be deeply injurious. In a few min- 
utes the time will have ex[)ired. The shadows of 
evening are now coming on. By using great cau- 
tion, after the bandage is removed, you can approach 
her and receive her embrace. 

(Lights partially down.) 

Milly. Ned, please fetch a cliiir for my precious 
girl. 

{J^ED fetches a chair to Milly.) 

Now, my darling, sit down. In a few minutes I 

Avill remove the ribbon from your eyes. 

Mrs. K. {talcing a seat) I shall see again ! Oh ! 
joy, — I shall see your dear face, this beautiful place, 
and the kind ones that have given us shelter. 



63 

{Enter J dressed as a Shal-eress, Mother S., r. 3 e. 
who advances to Mrs. B.^s chair.) 

Mother S. The Lord be good to j ou, dear lady, 
in tliis boiir. 

Sir Hugh, {to West.) Wlio is that woman ? 

West. She is the faitliful ohl rag-gatherer, who 
gave your lionseless daughter a home — the best that 
slie liad to offer. 

Sir Hugh, {iceepimj) My God! my God ! 

MiLLY. {to Mrs. B.) Now sit still, dear. I will 
cull your Shaker friends around you, who will be 
glad to congratulate you. {Goes tip c. towards the 
houses, and calls loudly): Friends, come now ! It is 
the time for my darling to see you. 

{Enter, R. &r L. 3 E., Shaker men and womeUj icho 
{lather near Mrs. R.) 

MiLLY. I wish the kind Mr Westing were here 
now. 

West, {to Sir Hugh) Permit me to leave you for 
a few moments, sir. {Ad ranees — Sir Hucfh retiring) 
{To Milhj) I am here, Milly. Did you tiiink that I 
could be absent from such a scene as this? 

Mrs. K. Let me hold your hand, kind sir, while 
the ribbon is being removed. I think it will give 
me strength to sustain my joy, or to support my sor- 
row, if the experiment prove unsuccessful. {Taka 
Weatimfn hand) You have done so much for me, that 
I would have my gaze rest upon you at the very 
lirst, if I shall indeed be so fortunate as to see. {To 
Milly) Is it time, dear ? 

MiLLY. Yes, my precious. INIay Heaven be kind 
to you now, poor angel! — suffering so much and un- 
complainingly. {She removes the ribbon and throws a 
thin, light veil over Mrs. B.^s head.) 

Mrs. K. O, Milly! I can see! I can see ! {raises 
her hands aloft, clasping Westing^s hand) Kind Hea- 
ven ! I thaidv thee for my restored vision, {to West.) 
Yes, good friend, I see again your pleasant face; 
and yours, Milly; and yours, dear old Mother 



64 

Stubbs ; and the faces of all those kind ones. And 
I behold this beautiful landscape. But, {nhadlny her 
eyes ivith her hands) the light gives me a slight pain. 
In a few moments I will look again. 

West. Yes, dear lady ; and then you shall see 
another face that will throw the sunshine of love 
into your cup of joy. 

Mrs. li. {slightly atjitated) Another? Oh! not 
him ! 

West. Calm yourself, dear madam. It is one 
that you will rejoice to embrace. Pardon me for 
leaving you for a moment. {Goes to L. 1 E., and re- 
turns uith Sir Hugh.) 

MiLLY. My ! ! O, joy ! joy ! joy ! 

Mrs. II. {opening her eyes and springing up) My 
father! O, Heaven! It is my loving, forgiving fa- 
ther ! {Throws herself into Sir Hugh''s arms.) 

MiLLY. Home again ! Ned; home again! {Seiz- 
es Ned and hugs him.) 

Sir Hugh. Yes, i)oor sufferer; it is indeed a lov- 
ing father that holds his motherless darling in his 
arms, — never again to be estranged — never to cease 
loving her. 

Mrs. li. O ! my father. — my noble father; — I have 
been so wilful — so erring! 

Sir Hugh. Kemember it not, darling. All is 
past, — all forgiven. I am here to take 30U back to 
to your home, — poor, wounded bird ! 

Mrs. II. Home ! home ! shall I again, in peace, 
see my dear home ? And my friends, and my pets : 
will they, too, give me welcome ? 

Sir Hugh. Nothing is changed there, Anna. 
Your beneficiaries, the jioor, have been fed every day 
from the door of the hall, or in the cottages; your 
birds are singing by the mansion windows ; your 
fawn is looking for you with its great, sad eyes ; 
your beautiful greyhound will leap the high wall of 
the park to come to you when he hears jour voice, 
and your white pony will whinney jou a glad note 
of welcome. 



65 

Mrs. E. My lioiiie ! my friends ! my pets ! But, 
father, sadly) this terrible stain ! can it ever be re- 
moved? I am still bound by a hateful chain. (/>/ 
agony, liftiny her hands aloft) Oh ! Heaven ! Heaven I 
mercy ! mercy ! 

Sir Hugh. Be comforted, dear. I have another 
^reat Joy in store for you. The scoundrel to whonj 
you gave your hand cannot, with strict legal right, 
claim you as his wife. 

Mrs. K. Not married ! 

Sir Hugh. Yes, married, — and with such legal- 
ity of form, that no deeper disgrace attaches to you, 
Anna. Mr. Westing has informed me that, at the 
trial of the man called Ilochester, and the woman, 
Marthon, for burglary, the woman made some dam- 
aging statements against the fellow ; among others, 
this : that his real name is eTohn Boggson. This fact 
will release you, my daughter, from all further dan- 
ger from him arising out of the marriage, for the 
com])lete annulment of which I have already instruc- 
ted my solicitor to commence a suit. It seems the 
fellow, by nature and birth vulgar, had jnide as well 
as cunning. He .assumed the name of an honorable 
I'amily to deceive his employers, through which 1 e 
also entrapped you. 

Mrs. B. wintt an escape I hc.ve had. I knew 
nothing even of the trial. 

Sir Hugh. For that you may thank Mr. West- 
ing. Through his rei)resentations, (the testimony' of 
the laborers being snlticient to convict,) .you were not 
called to the trial ; and his delicacy went so far as 
to cause your maid and Mrs. Stubbs to be spared. 
The woman, Marthon, has been rescued by some of 
her Gypsy band ; the man will leave England on a 
convict ship which sails to-morrow. 

MiLLY. I told you so, Ned. I told you so. He 
a Bochester ! the thieving sneak ! I told you so, 
Ned. 

Ned. Ecod ! Missis Milly, moi dear loave, thee 
did say that, \ei\lyj — h'm! 



60 

Mother S. T give the joy, friend Anna. Tlieo 
will go to thj' lioiiie witli gladness. I sliall i)i'ay for 
thy peace here among these worthy friends, who 
liave offered nie a home with them. 

Mks. K. May God forever bless yon, true Chris- 
tian woman. Take this kiss, and never forget 
Anna. {Embraces and I'lssea her.) 

SiK Hugh. It only remains for me, Anna, to 
thank and reinufierate these good peoj)le, and then 
to take you and your maid to the old home. 

Mrs. R. My father, will you also take Ned, my 
devoted servant, without whose help my sufferings 
would have been greater f 

Ned. {laying his hat upon the (/round) There I — 
dom'd if oi shaak ony moore. 

MiLLY. {rcmovinfi her bonnet from her head, and 
laying it vpon Xed\t hat) That is also my remark, 
Ned, — all except the swearing. 

Sir Hugh. Yes, Anna; fori thiidc your maid 
would not care to go without her devoted ba(*helor, 
if the common signs do not fail. I will take them 
both into my service. They shall have a cottage of 
their own for I think they will soon wish to set up 
independent housekeeping. 

MiLLY. No. Sir Hugh. After we have seen my 
})recious Miss Anna once more safe in her father's 
mansion. Ned and I will emigrate. 

Mrs. K. Emigrate ! Milly. Would you leave me ? 

MiLLY. Only for a year, darling. We will go to 
America. Ned will become so rich that we can re- 
turn and set up for high life, with servants and liv- 
eries. 

Sir Hugh, llich ! and in a year ! 

MILLY^ Yes, Sir Hugh. Barnum, the showman, 
will give Ned ten thousand dollars a w^eek, to exhi- 
bit as the honest man that Diogenes, with his lan- 
tern, was looking for in the streets of Athens. 

West, {laiufhing) How could he personate that 
man, Milly ? Diogenes lived thousands of years ago. 

MiLLY. O, — that's nothing to Barnum. 



67 

Joshua, {coming forward) Friend Hugh, I wisli 
thee joy ; and thee, friend Anna ; and thee, friend 
Westing. 

West. My greater Joy is yet to come, if 1 may 
ventnre to hope that, after a suitable time has ehip- 
sed, I also may go to Denleigh Hall, — go as a suitor 
for the hand of the only woman that I have ever 
loved. {To Mrs. E., taking her hand) Will you bless 
me with this hope, dear lady,? 

Mrs. K. {confused and stammering) Mv father, — 
I 1 

Sir Hugh. Pardon her confusion, Mr. Westing, 
and let me speak tor her. If, at the expiration of 
one year from this day, yon will come to Denleigli 
Hall, she shall then answer your question with my 
approbation. 

West. The months will be long. Sir Hugh ; but 
hope will brighten as they pass. If wishes were 
wings, time would fly swiftly for a waiting lover. 

Joshua. Friend Hugh, we of this community 
marry not, neither do we give in marriage ; but we 
wish well to all persons who deem wedlock necessa 
ry to their happiness. The youth Westing is honor- 
able. He will exalt the horn of thy house. I shall 
grieve for friend Edward, — yea, as for a lamb taken 
for the slaughter. 

(MiLLY, aside. He isn't a sanctimonious old Philan- 
dering bell- weather, though.) 

Respecting him who has been sentenced to the 

penal colony, — yea, the man Boggson, let me remind 
thee of the quaint saying handed down from the 
time of the ancient sages, — yea, peradventure from 
the mouth of Diogenes himself: 

"Thee cannot make a white silk purse out 

OF A BLACK PIG'S EAR." 

The Curtain falls. End of the Melodrama. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





015 971 808 6 




